


"Medium Security" I

by Gaedhal



Series: "Medium Security" [1]
Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-04-22 14:30:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 35
Words: 46,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14310735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaedhal/pseuds/Gaedhal
Summary: Brian Kinney is in the Stanton Correctional Facility for Men in Pennsylvania on a sentence of 20 years to life. But his life changes when a young short-termer named Justin Taylor enters the Quad.Takes place in early 1978.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Chapter 1

January 1978

 

“There’s some new meat coming in,” said Beemer to his pal, Andy, as they played cards in the Rec Room. Beemer worked as a clerk in the main office, so he knew the ins and outs of Stanton Correctional. “I think they’re putting him in with me.”

“Lucky him,” said Andy. Andy was in 3 to 5 for burglary. He was glad to be in Stanton. Medium security for Andy was a fucking gift, he knew, especially since it was his third time inside. But he was in his fifties and non-violent, so Stanton was a good fit. “You knew they were putting somebody in there, Beem. Ever since Fred got out you been getting a free ride. So join the club. I hope the new fish can put up with your fucking snoring.”

“You should come in with me, Andy. We’re buddies,” coaxed Beemer. His real name was Richard, but everyone called him Beemer because he was always bragging about the BMW he used to drive before they caught him running a fraud on a bunch of senior citizens in Scranton and gave him 2 to 6. “They can put the fish in with Bri Baby.”

Brian looked up from his newspaper. “Don’t fucking call me that,” he warned. He was sick of cute names. “And I don’t want any snot-nosed kid stuck in with me. Forget that shit!”

Brian was only 29, but he preferred to cell with older guys like Andy or Beemer. They were quiet and they left you alone. Brian had gotten used to hanging out with the older guys from living so long with Ron. Then, when Ron got out, Brian had been glad to have Andy move in with him instead of some young fucking hotshot who would be playing a bunch of macho games and disrupting Brian’s well-ordered routine. The older guys were mostly short-timers who only wanted to do their time and get out in one piece or long-termers well beyond mixing it up or having to prove themselves. Brian stayed out of the macho thing. At this point, with Ron out of the picture, all he wanted to do was lay low and survive as best he could.

“What’s the kid coming in for?” asked Andy, picking up a card. He had a lousy hand, as usual.

“Drug charge, what else? It’s all drugs now, you know? These kids are all on fucking drugs!” Beemer answered with disgust.

“Drug charges are bullshit! Fucking victimless crimes. Fucking fascist government,” mumbled Brian into his newspaper.

“Yeah, we’ve heard it all before, Trotsky. Preach to someone who gives a fuck,” sniffed Beemer.  
Brian shook his head and tossed down the paper. He didn’t usually open the Law Library until after lunch, but he was bored with sitting around watching Beemer and Andy play cards. Or watching the other guys staring at the television set. Both of those things, which made up the majority of recreational activity at Stanton, bored the shit out of Brian. He thought about going up to the iron pile and lifting some weights, but the Bros, the black gang in the Quad, owned the pile in the mornings, before they had to go to work in Industry. Brian usually hit the pile in the late afternoon, when things were quiet and everyone but the men on disability were at their jobs.

Brian walked along the tier on his way to the Library. He must have walked this route a million times in the past 9 years. And he’d probably walk it a million more times before he got out. Or before he died there in Stanton. Which Brian had no doubt that he would do. That was just the reality when you were facing a sentence of 20 years to life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian needs a smoke.

Chapter 2

 

Brian decided to go out into the Yard for a smoke before he went to work. It was Monday, which meant that he had files to update and forms to fill out and he had a new case to hand over to Ron when he came for his monthly visit on Thursday.

It was cold in the Yard and Brian’s old sweater was threadbare, so he huddled close to the door, out of the biting January wind. He supposed that he should ask Ron to send him a new one, but he kept forgetting. During Ron’s short visits there was so much to cram in about pending cases or other issues that the Prisoners’ Legal Defense was taking up that Brian’s personal needs were usually pushed to the side. 

Other inmates had families, usually mothers or wives or girlfriends, who thought of such things and sent guys better socks, underwear, warm sweaters and new shirts. Just about anything was nicer than the government issue clothing each inmate received once a year. But Brian didn’t have any family visitors to bring him the niceties of life. In fact, he had no visitors at all other than Ron. And he’d had no letters from his family since his mother had sent him a religious pamphlet about 5 years before.

Not that Brian thought about it much. It was just the way things were. He didn’t need his family. They had blown him off years before, practically from the minute he was arrested. But even before that he had never felt close to them. His old man had never liked him and his mother didn’t give a shit about anything but her church, so it was stupid to think that they’d go out of their way to drive 50 miles to bring a pair of socks to their convict son. Brian imagined that they gave little thought to him or what was happening to him and he gave little thought to them – except sometimes late at night, in the dark, when he felt totally alone in the world.

But working as the inside liaison for the Prisoners’ Legal Defense was what kept Brian from going crazy, especially during the past 8 months since Ron Rosenblum had been paroled. It was also the thing that gave Brian whatever small status he enjoyed in Stanton Correctional. Of course, the guys would never, ever treat Brian with the same respect they had accorded Ron. Ron had been a real lawyer, after all, no matter how discredited. But Ron had trained Brian during their 8 years together to do almost all of the legal work that Ron himself had done inside. How to file an appeal. How to work up a case. How to get an inmate ready to face a hearing or the Parole Board. But most of all, Brian’s work on their cases gave the inmates hope that someone was paying attention.

At first the guys had been dubious about trusting their cases to Rosenblum’s young punk. They felt that once the lawyer was out of the joint, he’d forget about them and their pending cases. But Ron had been as good as his word. He’d been jailed in 1965 for defrauding clients to the tune of hundreds of thousands of dollars. It had been a famous case in its day and Ron had wealthy and important victims who made certain that the full letter of the law came down on him. But prison had politicized the man. Prisoners’ rights and concerns became his cause and when Brian entered Stanton in 1969 and they hooked up, it became Brian’s cause, too. Now they both worked, one inside and one outside, for the Prisoners’ Legal Defense, a group of socially aware attorneys and legal aides that had been organized during the turbulent 1960’s to deal with civil right and anti-war cases. But now, in the waning 1970’s, it was more about drugs and gangs. And that seemed a battle that was being swiftly lost.

“Hey, Bri Baby. Got a smoke for a lady?”

Brian shrugged and offered a cigarette to Emmy. She came out and stood next to him in the shelter of the concrete archway that led into the Yard. The Yard was empty except for a lone inmate walking in circles around one of the basketball courts. 

Emmy had long light brown hair and pretty blue eyes that she used to great effect on the men of the Quad. She was wearing a bright pink sweater over her chambray government issue shirt, which was tied up to bare her trim midriff. Of all the white queens in Stanton, Emmy was certainly the most stylish. She took the cigarette from Brian’s fingers and shoved it into her pocket. Emmy didn’t smoke, but cigarettes were as good as cash inside.

“You must be freezing your nuts off out here, Bri Baby. Come in where it’s nice and warm,” she purred, sliding her eyes at Brian.

Some of the other queens turned up their noses at Bri. To them, he wasn’t quite all man. A punk without a daddy. “He’s nothing but another sister dressed up in men’s drag, honey!” insisted Loretta, the leader of the black queens.

But ever since Bri’s old man, the lawyer, had been sprung, Emmy had been looking at this boy with new eyes. He was no one’s kid anymore. Not at all. She took in his broad shoulders and tall frame approvingly. She and Brian had gotten down quite a few times and Emmy knew that Bri Baby was more than capable of holding his own sexually with any of the macho jockers in the Quad. Emmy had been at loose ends since her last old man had attacked a C.O. and gotten transferred out to a maximum security facility on the other side of the state. No, it never paid to take a swing at a Corrections Officer, as Floyd had found out. Since then she had suggested to Bri that they hook up, but he’d told her to forget it. Brian had made clear that he wasn’t about to play that game anymore, even from the other side of the fence.

“I’m almost finished with this, Em,” said Brian, smoking the cigarette down to the bitter end. It didn’t do to let anything go to waste here. He took one last drag and then tossed the butt into the Yard. He was shaking with the cold, but at least the air was fresh outside. Once he went back inside all he’d be breathing was prison.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian at work.

Chapter 3

January 1978

 

Emmy followed Brian around the lower tier, past the Chapel and the Chow Hall, on the way to the Library. Just outside the Library door was a small multi-purpose room where A. A. held weekly meetings. Otherwise it was convenient for other kinds of encounters.

Brian shut the door and Emmy was on her knees in a second, giving his dick her all. Brian had to admit that Emmy had the best mouth of all the white queens – and Brian had tried them all. But Emmy could out-suck the best of them. Christ, thought Brian, she could suck the head off a fucking nail!

“Thanks,” said Brian, zipping up his fly. He gave her three more cigarettes. 

“The pleasure was all mine, Baby,” Emmy cooed. She rearranged her sweater and smoothed the dust off the knees of her pants. “Big Melvin thinks he has the biggest cock in the Quad, but he can’t hold a candle to you, Bri!” she flattered.

“Don’t tell Big Melvin that or he’ll come after me with his shiv and make certain that he keeps his reputation,” Brian replied, only half-joking. Men had been killed for less things, even in a medium security place like Stanton, where there wasn’t a lot of overt violence. “No jocker worth his salt can stand to think that some punk’s dick is bigger than a man’s. It upsets the natural order of the universe.”

Emmy giggled. “I LOVE the way you college boys talk!”

“Yeah, whatever the fuck,” Brian sighed. He was a long way away from being a college boy anymore. “What are you doing wandering around in the middle of the day, Em? Shouldn’t you be working?” Emmy was an orderly in the Hospital.

“I’m on the night shift all this week, Baby.”

“Well, don’t get into trouble with the C.O.’s,” said Brian, pushing open the door of the small room.

“I won’t, Baby. I never get in trouble. After all, guards have dicks, too!” Emmy laughed.

“Watch yourself, Em. I’m not kidding,” said Brian. He knew that Emmy was hot to hook up with him. Having a man, even one a little suspect, gave a queen some status with her peers. But Brian didn’t want to admit that, although he had sex with them when the opportunity arose, he just wasn’t attracted to queens. The whole drag thing and all the melodrama attached to them got on Brian’s nerves. Besides, if he hooked up with Emmy she would want to cell with him and then all her friends would be in his face every day. Brian didn’t think he could stand that.

Brian liked his privacy, which was an almost impossible luxury in the joint. That’s one reason why he treasured his job in the Law Library. It was quiet and he could spend hours alone there, arranging his files, writing out notes on cases, going through law books, or working on his own manuscript. That was the main thing he treasured. Ron had encouraged him to start writing it as a kind of therapy about 5 years ago when Brian had been in a major depression and he’d kept working on it ever since. It was a combination prison diary and memoir that detailed how he had gotten to Stanton and then how he had survived once there.

Murray, the librarian, greeted Brian as he opened up the little annex that made up the Law Library. His desk was there, with his file cabinets and shelves lined with reference books. And the old Royal typewriter which he used to fill out forms and write reports. But Brian’s own book was written out in longhand on yellow legal pads. Typing such a manuscript would call attention to what Brian was doing and he was afraid that his 5 years of work would be confiscated by the C.O.’s and destroyed. So he wrote as he sat at the desk and then he hid the pages away among the inmate files where no one else would ever look.

Brian sat down at the desk and began preparing material to give Ron when he saw him on Thursday. This desk, these files, this typewriter had all been Ron’s. He’d set up the office after a furious struggle with the prison administration. But Ron had won that battle in the end. For years Brian had sat at the tiny table in the corner, taking notes or looking things up in legal books and journals to bolster Ron’s cases. And he learned a lot about the Law and even more about the workings of the penal system from his mentor, who was also his cellmate and his old man. 

For 8 years the two had been virtually joined at the hip and sometimes Brian still forgot and turned to make some observation to Ron, only to realize that Ron was now gone. He was back in the real world. Living with his wife and children. Going to work at the Prisoners’ Legal Defense. Visiting Brian on the second Thursday of every month at Stanton, where Brian, in all probability, would still be in 10 years. And maybe even longer than that if the United States Government had any say in the matter.

Brian worked until just before 3:30, when he closed the office and headed back to his tier for 4:00 lockdown and head count. Andy, his cellie, and Beemer were lounging outside the cells, waiting with the rest of the guys for lockdown to begin. 

Every day at 4:00 the inmates were locked in their cells and counted. It was more a ritual than anything else, since escape attempts from Stanton were rare. At 5:00 they were all released to go down to dinner. After dinner they could go back to their cells or to the Rec Room or TV Room or the iron pile or just hang out until 10:00 nightly lockdown. Then lights out at 11:30 and in the morning the routine would begin again with 7:00 a.m. wake up call and breakfast.

Afternoon lockdown on Mondays was also when they brought in any new fish. Because Stanton was medium security and fairly small as state prisons went, it didn’t have a separate fish tier just for new inmates. Instead, they came straight from the Processing Center in Harrisburg and were introduced directly into the population of their new home away from home. The new fish were instantly recognizable by their white workpants, distinct from the khakis worn by the veterans. The fish, especially first timers, were usually put in with older inmates who could show them the ropes and offer them a modicum of protection until they knew their way around. At least that was the theory. But it rarely worked out that way.

“Here comes Beemer’s new cellie,” whispered Andy, looking out the cell door after they’d all been locked in. Beemer’s cell was the last in the tier, two down from Andy and Brian’s, at what was considered the quiet end. “Looks like trouble on two legs.” Andy shook his head sadly. 

Brian looked out over Andy’s shoulder, now curious to see the fish. He could hear the obscene catcalls and the hoots and whistles going all the way down the tier. And then he saw the reason for the uproar. The new meat. Short, slight, blond hair, and skin so pale it was almost transparent. The kid was clutching his bag of gear tightly. Brian also saw the look of helpless terror in his blue eyes as the C.O. led him past.

“Shit,” said Brian. “Fucking fascists, putting a boy like that in here.” Brian knew something about that from bitter personal experience. And he shuddered to think of what would happen to the kid when lockdown ended and all the wolves descended on him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin has a lot to learn as a new "fish."

Chapter 4

 

Brian and Andy walked down to the Chow Hall with Beemer and the new fish. The kid looked shell-shocked, answering in monosyllables and flinching whenever someone brushed against him.

Beemer was not happy about this turn of events. It was bad enough having to deal with a first timer, but a really young fish like this was a magnet for grief. Beemer knew that every horny jocker in the joint would be smelling this kid’s ass, trying to get a piece of it before he hooked up with someone full time.

“I ain’t no fucking babysitter!” he complained to Andy. “I told you that you should have moved in with me before they had a chance to stick me with this goddamn punk!”

“Shut up, Beem,” warned Brian. “Can’t you see the kid is fucking terrified? Just cut him some slack.” Brian picked up a plastic tray in the chow line and handed one to the kid. “Here. Sit with us and it will be okay.”

“Thanks,” the kid answered, his voice barely audible.

“What’s your name again?” asked Brian.

“Justin.”

“All right, Justin,” said Brian. “Try not to panic.”

Justin knew that if simply going through the food line in the cafeteria was this much of an ordeal then he didn’t know how he would survive the more difficult aspects of prison. Justin felt himself starting to tear up and he tried to stop himself.

“Don’t let them see you cry, kid,” Brian said to him softly. “Never let them see you cry.”

“I won’t,” Justin replied. I’ll try, he thought. If I don’t break down completely.

Justin had gone through his arrest and then his trial and sentencing in a state of total denial. At every stage of the process everyone, from his parents to his lawyer, had told Justin that the charges would be dropped. Or that they would be offered a plea bargain. And then that Justin would get time served or else a short stint in a minimum security workhouse. After all, Justin was an honor student at an exclusive private school. His parents were well-to-do people living in an upper-middle class neighborhood in Pittsburgh. The Taylors were white. They were WASPs. They were privileged. Boys like Justin didn’t go to prison, even after being arrested for DWI after his high school graduation with enough pot on him to get the entire St. James Academy Senior Class stoned. So at every step Justin waited for the nightmare to be over.

But none of those things happened. There was no dropping of charges, no plea bargain, and no short term in a white-collar country club. The prosecutor of Justin’s case was bucking for a political career and drugs were a hot issue. So was the uneven application of justice, with rich kids getting off and poor ones getting the shaft. At least that’s how the prosecution spun things. In reality, even a ghetto kid arrested on a first offense marijuana possession charge would probably have gotten probation. But instead Justin got 5 years.

And now he was in Stanton Correctional Facility. And he didn’t know what the fuck he was going to do.

His roommate was an old guy who obviously wasn’t happy to have Justin in there with him. But all the other men he’d seen so far had been large and scary-looking. Up until now Justin had been largely shielded from other inmates. He had been bailed out soon after his arrest. And in the county lock-up he’d been segregated from the general population because he was the prosecutor’s pet project and the man didn’t want him roughed up before sentencing. That wouldn’t have looked too good in court. Justin had also been in the Processing Center over the Christmas holiday when it was relatively quiet and he had a cell to himself. But even there he had been the object of threats from the other men. Words whispered about what they would do to him if they could get hold of him. And about what would happen to him in prison. Where he now was. For real.

The only person who had said anything to him that wasn’t a creepy threat or a direct insult was Brian, the tall, skinny man who seemed to be friendly with his roommate, Beemer. He looked pretty young and Justin thought that he had a sad, beautiful face. He’d encouraged him. Told him not to cry. Like he understood what Justin was feeling. He probably did understand. He’d probably been where Justin was once upon a time. Justin tried to smile at the man, but he couldn’t. He just couldn’t smile about anything.

“I think it must be Friday,” said a large white man whose arms were covered with tattoos of skulls and blood-dripping knives. He was sitting at a table with a bunch of other very big white guys with long hair and lots of tattoos. “Because it looks like FISH is on the menu tonight. Young, tasty fish.”

“Back off, Hoss,” said Brian. He glared at the tattooed men and they all guffawed. Brian hated these guys with a passion. They weren’t the same bunch who had victimized him so long ago when he’d been a new fish, but they were like those guys. Brothers in arms, so to speak. And Brian could not forget what they had done to him. He’d never forget that until the day he died.

Brian nudged the kid toward a table near the back of the Chow Hall. “Stay away from those guys, kid. And I mean that.”

“Who are they?” asked Justin, his hands trembling so badly that his tray of food was rattling.

“Low-riders,” Brian answered grimly. “Biker gang members. They pretty much run the drug trafficking trade in this state. They bring the dope up from Mexico on their motorcycles and carry it all over the country. These guys are only lower level scum. Short-termers in medium security, so they aren’t the hardcore members of the gang. But I wouldn’t mess with them. No fucking way.”

“I... I won’t,” the boy gulped.

“And see over there?” Brian pointed to one corner of the Chow Hall where a group of black inmates sat. “That’s the Bros’ section. They don’t like punk-ass white boys wandering into their territory, so don’t. Baraka and his Brothers might decide to kick your ass – or worse. Otherwise they’ll pretty much leave you alone. Same with the Spanish guys.” Brian indicated another section of the Hall where a group of muscular Hispanics were laughing at a large table. “They don’t like to mix, so don’t go over and try to make friends.”

“I wasn’t planning to,” Justin answered.

“In other words – stay away from just about everyone.” 

Justin stared at Brian and saw that he was serious. Deadly serious.

They sat down at a table with Beemer and the other older man, Andy. The two old guys ignored Justin and talked only to each other. A few men passed the table and made kissing noises at the back of Justin’s head. This made Justin’s stomach turn over. He looked down at the food on his tray and knew that he was going to be sick.

“Don’t puke, kid. Really,” said Brian, as if he could read Justin’s mind. “It’s not cool.”

Justin swallowed. “I’ll try not to.”

“Just drink a little water. You don’t have to clean your plate in here. I don’t,” Brian said. And he smiled slightly at the boy. 

“Hi hi!” said a voice.

Justin looked up to see a tall man who was even skinnier than Brian. But the man had long hair down to his shoulders. Not like a hippie’s hair, but like a lady’s. And he was wearing a pink sweater. And make-up. Justin could see that he was wearing lipstick and liner around his blue eyes. Another shorter man, with longish dark hair and large brown eyes, was standing behind the first man. The shorter guy was wearing a long blue scarf over his prison shirt. He was wearing make-up, too.

“Is this the new talent?” asked the man in the pink sweater. “He’s sooo pretty!”

“This is Justin,” said Brian. “I was telling you to stay away from almost everybody in this joint, kid, but Emmy and her friends are okay. If you get into trouble, they’ll take care of you.”

Justin drew back a little. They didn’t look like the kind of people who Justin thought of as safe. They were strange. They were like... drag queens. That made Justin start to sweat. His big fear had always been that someone at his high school would realize that he was gay. Or that his parents would find out. Or that someone would find out now that he was in jail. What those people might do to him if they knew. And now he was confronted by these two full-blown drag queens and told that they were safe to be his friends! It was like Justin’s entire world was turned upside down in every possible way.

Emmy sat down at a nearby table and was joined by a couple of other queens, all wearing make-up and dressed in feminized versions of their prison uniforms. But the dark-haired queen lingered next to Brian, trying to get his attention.

“Bri Baby?” he said in a low voice.

“What Michelle?” Brian’s voice was impatient.

“Emmy told me that... this afternoon... that you and she.... You know!” The dark-haired queen was pouting.

Brian sighed. “She blew me in the meeting room. And your point is what, Michelle?”

“Well, I was thinking that... why are you always giving ME the brush-off? I’m as good as Emmy! I’m cuter than Emmy! I know you like me, Bri. I know you do.” Now the guy was whining.

“Yes, Michelle, I like you. But not in that way. We’re just friends. That’s all. So give me a break, huh?” Brian turned away, dismissing Michelle.

Justin stared at the dark-haired man. The queen frowned back, his brown eyes snapping. “What are you looking at, punk?” he said in a much gruffer, butcher voice. 

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” said Justin, shrinking away.

“Then mind your own fucking business!” said Michelle. And he turned and stomped off. 

The queens at the nearby table all began laughing. Michelle’s hopeless crush on Bri Baby was old news. Even though Michelle was hooked up with a guy over on the other side of the Quad, she was still bugging Bri for sex. But Brian was friendly with Michelle’s jocker, Dave, who was one of Ron’s PLD clients, and Brian wasn’t about to offend the guy by screwing around with his piece of ass. 

“Just ignore the melodrama, kid,” Brian advised. “There’s already enough of it in this joint as it is without making more.” 

Justin nodded. He had a lot to learn here. An awful lot to learn.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian's cell.

Chapter 5

 

“I think it would be better if the kid didn’t hang out in the Rec Room tonight, Beemer,” said Brian as they all tossed their trays on the rack.

“Fuck that, Kinney! I told you that I wasn’t no wet-nurse,” Beemer huffed. “You think I’m going to sit in my cell every night staring at Blondie just to keep him company? Forget that shit!” 

“One night, you asshole,” said Brian. “Try to think of somebody except yourself for once. You want that kid to walk into the Rec Room and have every moron in this place trying to put their hands on him? Use your head, Beem!”

“Not my problem,” said Beemer, turning away. “YOU babysit him – because I ain’t doing it!”

“Sorry, Bri,” said Andy, following his pal. Andy was a follower and in a contest between his cellie and his buddy, Andy would always pick Beemer over Brian.

Brian looked at the kid. He was standing close to Brian, practically hiding behind him. Brian had been the only person even halfway nice to him, and Justin wasn’t about to let the man out of his sight. They walked slowly back towards their tier from the Chow Hall.

“Beemer doesn’t like me, does he?” said Justin, quietly.

“It isn’t that he doesn’t like you, kid,” Brian reassured. “It’s just that he’s set in his ways. Every night Beemer and Andy play cards in the Rec Room. You’d think that the fucking world will end if they miss a night, so what can I say?”

Justin thought about what Brian had said to the older man. About the other guys trying to put their hands on him. “You don’t think it’s safe for me to go anywhere, do you?”

Brian hesitated. He didn’t want to scare the shit out of the kid, but he also wanted to be honest. “Listen, Justin... it’s always a good idea to lay low at first in a place like this. Guys are... interested in you because you’re new. They’re curious about you. Some of the guys might act kind of... aggressive. That’s why you have to be careful.”

Brian took out his key and unlocked his cell. That seemed so strange to Justin – the fact that each inmate had a key to his own cell. Of course, the guards could automatically over-ride any lock, but it still seemed weird.

“You might as well come in,” said Brian, pushing open the door.

Justin went inside and looked around.

“It’s a bit... minimalist,” Brian commented. Which was rather an understatement. The cell was basically bare.

“Beemer has a bunch of photographs on the wall next to his bunk. I guess they’re his family,” Justin said.

“His ex-wife, actually. And some of the others are Beemer’s pen-pals.”

Justin frowned. “Pen-pals? Isn’t Beemer a little old for pen-pals?”

Brian shrugged. “Some women are prison groupies. They look for cons to write to. And a lot of the guys write to these females and then think they are having ‘relationships’ with them. It’s kind of sad, but at least they get mail. I guess that’s the main thing. Beemer has about 5 of them. Even Andy writes to a few of them. Those are their photos.” Brian indicated a few snapshots taped to the wall next to the mirror. “Some of the guys have those ‘Playboy’ centerfold pin-ups all over their walls, but I think Andy is too old for that stuff.”

Justin raised his eyebrows. “But you don’t do pen-pals? Or naked lady pin-ups?”

Brian snorted. “No, I don’t do pen-pals. And I don’t do pin-ups of naked females. I don’t do much of anything, really. But that’s my problem, not yours, kid.”

“Is this your bunk?” Justin sat down on the bottom bed.

“No, that’s Andy’s. I’m upstairs.” Brian pointed to the top bunk. “In theory I should get the bottom slot since I’ve been in here longer. But Andy’s got a bad leg and he’s an old man, so what the hell?”

“How long have you been in this... room?” Justin had a hard time saying ‘cell’ – that really reminded him that he was in prison.

“Too long. Almost 9 years. Since a few months after I got here,” said Brian, evenly. He leaned against the wall and looked down at the kid. Seeing Justin made him think about his own early days at Stanton and they weren’t pleasant thoughts.

Justin’s mouth gaped open. “Oh my God! That’s a long time!” Then he paused, noticing a change in Brian’s face. “I... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask about...how long you’ve been here. I guess I don’t know what the fuck to say to anyone. I’m sorry. I’m always fucking things up,” Justin sniffed. He put his hand up to his mouth and bit at his ragged nails.

Brian leaned over. “Listen, kid, it isn’t impolite to talk about how long a guy’s been in the joint. Everybody talks about their cases and their sentences and how they were fucked over by the system and how long they’ve been in this shithole and how many years or days or minutes they have until they get out. So don’t apologize. I’ve been in for 9 years already. I’m a veteran and I’m not even 30 years old. And if I get out of here before I’m 40 I’ll be fucking amazed. Any other questions you want to ask?”

Justin swallowed. “Only about a million, but I guess there’s plenty of time to ask them later.”

Brian smiled. “Now you’re getting the idea, kid. There’s one thing that there’s always plenty of inside the joint and that’s time. Always lots of time.” 

Brian sat down on the floor of the cell. He wanted to sit next to the kid, but he knew that would be a bad idea. He tried to stop himself from gazing at Justin. At his blue eyes and his flawless skin and the curve of his determined young jaw. Christ, I’m no better than the wolves, Brian thought. All I’m thinking of is how much I want to touch this boy. And that’s fucking wrong. 

“You don’t have any pictures next to your bed, Brian. I mean, I don’t see any,” said Justin.

“I don’t have pen-pals like Beemer.”

“What about your... your family?” Justin was almost afraid to ask. What if Brian had killed his family or something horrible like that? 

“They aren’t too happy with me, kid. Having an inmate for a son isn’t their favorite thing. So looking at their pictures isn’t a big priority in my life,” Brian answered honestly.

“Do they ever visit you? My mother is going to come and visit me as soon as it’s allowed!” Justin blurted out. “She’s going to bring me my art supplies. If it’s permitted.”

“No,” said Brian, quietly. “They don’t visit me. And I don’t see why they wouldn’t let you have your art stuff here. Then you can draw a picture for me to put up next to my bed. That would be better than any pin-up girl.”

“Sure!” said Justin, brightening. “I’ll draw a picture for you! You just tell me what you want a picture of.”

“I don’t know,” Brian mused, staring into space. “Something natural. A tree. Or an animal. Maybe a horse. Or a bird. Something that’s free. That would be good.”

“Okay,” said Justin, suddenly feeling a little ill. Something free. “That will be the first thing I draw. Just for you.”

Brian stood up. “You better go back into your cell now. Beemer will be back at 10:00 for evening head count. Try to get some sleep. I’m sure you must be exhausted.”

“Yeah, I am a little tired.” Justin stood up and stretched. “Thanks for looking out for me. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, kid,” said Brian. “Lock yourself inside and don’t let anyone in. And I mean NOBODY. And promise me that you won’t go wandering around this joint on your own. Stick close to Beemer and Andy tomorrow. They’re a little gruff, but they are all right. Maybe I’ll take you over to the Library. That’s where I work. You’ll need to talk to a counselor about taking classes. If you can get classified as a full-time student, then you can spend most of your time in the Library. That’s the safest place to be in this joint.”

“Why is it so safe, Brian?” asked Justin.

“Because that’s where I am all day, of course,” Brian replied. Justin saw by the expression on his face that Brian wasn’t joking. And Justin felt that safety radiating from this man. He knew that as long as he was in Stanton that Brian would take care of him and make certain he really was safe.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the Chow Hall.

Chapter 6

 

Because the inmates all knew that Ron Rosenblum was coming to visit Brian on Thursday, Brian had scheduled meetings for most of the day on Tuesday and Wednesday with men who had cases pending. But Brian’s mind wasn’t completely on his Prisoners’ Legal Defense work. He was thinking about the new kid. Worrying about him. Worrying a lot.

After breakfast Brian shepherded Justin through the showers, where Brian noted a number of men waiting to get a good look at the new fish. The jockers – men who made a practice of hooking up with young, inexperienced inmates for sex and companionship – were a mixed bag. Phil and Butchie were older daddies looking to replace their punks, who had either been paroled or transferred. Another, Francisco, was a Mexican pimp who ran a stable of punks who serviced the entire prison population, as well as a number of the C.O.’s. Francisco was always on the prowl for new additions to his organization.

Brian also saw Hoss and three of his road dogs – his biker buddies – soaping themselves and gazing at the boy possessively. The low-riders shared their punks with their entire tip, so they all liked to get a taste of the fish before they claimed it for the gang.

Brian wasn’t completely certain, but he had a strong feeling that Justin was gay. Of course, that didn’t matter one bit to the jockers. To them a punk wasn’t straight or gay, wasn’t male or female. A punk was a punk. A punk had two holes that were there to be fucked. That was a punk’s purpose in life. That and to obey his old man. If the punk understood the rules of the game, then he could survive at Stanton. If he didn’t... well, that was a different story.

A punk had no identity of his own. He was a reflection of his old man. If his jocker was strong and influential, then the punk took on his old man’s status. But if his jocker was weak and ineffectual, unable to protect his own kid, then the punk was prey to Fate. Some jockers treated their kids pretty well, keeping them in drugs and cigarettes and goodies from the canteen. But other jockers treated their punks like slaves, knocking them around and passing them off to their friends. It wasn’t uncommon for a jocker who was short of credit to sell his punk’s services to shore up his bankroll. And a few became powerfully attached to their kids, guarding them jealously and never letting them out of sight, let alone allowing another man touch them. It all depended on the guy.

Justin seemed oblivious to it all as he stood next to Brian, drying himself. Oblivious to the silent, appraising stares. But Brian wasn’t oblivious to them. The jockers were staring at the boy’s pale body, which looked pure and untouched in this dark and dirty place. Brian knew that the jockers were making their own plans for the new kid.

Brian hustled Justin back to his cell and told him to get dressed. “I’m going to be busy all day in the Library, so you stick close to Andy. Just go wherever he goes. He’s on disability, so he doesn’t have a job to go to. He’ll probably be in the Rec Room or the TV Room most of the day. I’ll meet up with you guys at dinner.”

“Okay,” said Justin. He didn’t really want to spend all day with the grouchy Andy, but he didn’t know what else to do. “When will I find out about taking my classes?”

“I’ll find out for you, kid,” said Brian. “I’ll get the list of classes offered and we’ll get you certified as a student as soon as possible. Your education is important.”

“Thanks, Brian.” Justin thought about where he’d be if he hadn’t been so stupid as to buy all that pot and then get himself arrested. He’d be starting his second semester at the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art. But that was all over now.

“No problem, kid.”

Brian left Justin with Andy and Beemer and made his way to the Law Library. After a lull over the Holidays, January always brought a flurry of legal activity. There were new appeals to be filed and old cases to be reviewed. The New Year seemed to stir the inmates to action, so Brian had a lot to hand over to Ron on Thursday.

Brian always felt a pang when Ron came for his monthly visit. Ron was so formal and business-like with Brian now that he was on the outside. Only rarely did he have anything personal to say. It was as if Ron was avoiding anything too personal. Sometimes it felt like Ron was afraid to meet Brian’s eyes.

That tore at Brian. Here was a man who he’d lived with for eight years. Ate with. Worked with. Slept with. Maybe that had meant nothing to Ron. Maybe Brian had been just a prison convenience, easily dismissed once Ron was free and back with his wife and family. Or maybe Brian was an embarrassing reminder of something that Ron would rather forget – his 8 years as a situational faggot.

But their relationship HAD meant something to Brian. It had literally saved his life and that was something Brian couldn’t forget. Ron had been more that just his jocker, his old man, his daddy. Ron had been Brian’s mentor. His teacher. His companion. His lover. Because for Brian being a queer wasn’t situational, it was the way he was. He’d been gay before prison and he’d still be gay when he got out – whenever that would be. And he’d been in love with Ron. At least he thought he’d been in love. But he’d been in love once before when he was in college – and that had ended disastrously.

Brian had truly believed that Ron felt the same way about him. Believed it for all the years they were together. But now the truth was revealed and that truth hurt. Now whenever he saw Brian, Ron treated him like an employee. Nothing more. Occasionally he asked how Brian was, but then Ron plunged straight into business. That made Brian feel worthless. Disposable. Everyone Brian had ever cared about had rejected him eventually. Brian shoved those thoughts out of his head. At least he was alive. That was something.

Brian worked right through lunch and almost missed afternoon head count at 4:00. He ran up to his tier at the very last minute and one of the C.O.’s threatened to write him up.

“Beemer’s steamed, Bri,” said Andy while they waited for the end of lockdown to go to dinner. “That kid is driving him nuts asking all those questions.”

“Beemer should be flattered by Justin’s attention. If Beemer wasn’t completely dickless he’d be falling all over the kid.”

“Yeah,” said Andy. “That’s the other thing. Guys kept coming over and trying to talk to the kid, but he wouldn’t speak to anybody. Phil was trying to sweet talk him into hooking up, but the kid didn’t understand what Phil was yapping about.” Phil, an old pal of Beemer and Andy, was an embezzler in his 40’s. He was one of the jockers looking for a new punk to replace a slackjawed little mugger who had been paroled a few months before.

“Phil’s a creep,” muttered Brian.

“Blondie could hook up with worse guys, Bri. Phil will treat him decent. His family sends money to his canteen account so he can afford to keep the punk in goods. Phil always does right by his fuckboys.”

“Bullshit!” Brian exclaimed. Picturing the ethereal Justin sucking fat Phil’s ugly prick turned Brian’s stomach.

Andy frowned. “Better Phil than one of those fucking bikers. Those bastards will pound his little ass into the ground.”

“Why don’t you just shut the fuck up already, Andy?” Brian snapped.

“Okay, okay! I’m just saying.” But Andy backed off. Sometimes Brian got into these pissy moods and then you couldn’t say anything to him.

A few minutes later the doors were racked and the men filed out to dinner. Justin immediately trotted over to Brian and followed him down to the Chow Hall.

“I hear you were asking Beemer a lot of questions, kid.”

Justin blushed. “I guess I don’t know when to shut up.”

“No,” replied Brian. “That’s how you learn. It’s good to ask questions so you don’t make mistakes. I used to bug Ron constantly with my questions.”

“Who’s Ron?”

Brian blinked. “He was my cellmate before Andy. He taught me my job in the Law Library. He was an attorney on the outside. Now he works for the Prisoners’ Legal Defense. You should have your lawyer contact them. Ron will take a look at your case. I’ll tell him to make it a priority.” Yeah, getting this boy out of here was the best thing for him. And the sooner the better.

“That would be great! Do you think there’s a chance for my case?”

“There’s always a chance, Justin. The PLD will work on an appeal. Maybe even try to get you shock probation. They know all the angles.”

Justin had a strong urge to take Brian’s hand and squeeze it, but he was afraid to reach out. “Thanks, Brian. I mean, for giving a shit.”

“That’s part of my job, kid. I’m the inside liaison for the PLD, so I know all the guys’ cases.”

Emmy waved at them from across the Chow Hall. “Yoo hoo! Bri Baby! Sit with us girls, honey!”

“Why do they call you that, Brian?” Justin asked as they moved through the food line. “‘Bri Baby’? That guy, Phil, called you that, too.”

Brian winced. “It’s just an old nickname. Everybody has a nickname in the joint.”

“But you don’t like that nickname, do you, Brian?” Justin observed. He’d been watching the tall inmate closely and noticed his reaction.

“Not really, kid. It’s a punk name. Made to remind you that you’re not really a man in here. To remind you that you’re a bitch and always will be,” said Brian, bitterly.

Justin frowned. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You will – eventually. Let’s sit with Emmy. I’m sick of Beemer and Andy.”

Brian set his tray down next to Emmy, who then grinned triumphantly at Michelle. Michelle gazed longingly at Brian – and glared at the new kid who was dogging his heels. Justin sat down on Brian’s other side.

“I talked to Dave today, Michelle. About his case.”

“Oh, yeah?” Michelle shrugged. She and Dave got together for sex, but they didn’t cell together or even eat together very often. Dave had his own set of buddies that he hung with.

“Dave is meeting the Parole Board next month,” Brian continued.

“That’s great,” Michelle said without enthusiasm. If Dave was paroled then she’d have to find another daddy to provide her with goods and protect her from having to blow any guy in the Quad who wanted it. Emmy didn’t mind being a prison slut, but Michelle hated it. Being hooked up with Dave meant that she didn’t have to put out for anyone but her old man. Now she’d have to find a new jocker who treated her right.

Michelle really liked Brian. She thought he was the handsomest guy in the entire Quad. All the queens thought so. But Brian wasn’t a jocker. That was the problem. He’d been a bitch himself from the time he entered Stanton and was still one when his old man got out of the joint almost a year ago. Once you were a bitch you stayed a bitch. The queens might have sex with Brian when they got the opportunity, but most didn’t view him as a possible jocker. The queens wanted a REAL man. Only Emmy seemed to think that Brian had hook up potential. But Michelle knew that would never happen. A bitch was a bitch. Period.

She wondered, though, about this new kid. Michelle had heard a rumor that the bikers were planning a ‘turning out party’ for him. Once he’d been broken in by a gang of low-riders none of the other jockers would touch him with a ten foot pole! Then the bikers would take him over, lock, stock, and fuckhole.

Michelle shuddered. The queens avoided the bikers. They treated their punks like pieces of meat. Their fuckboys were always bruised and dazed-looking. And doped up. That’s how they kept them quiet, with plenty of heroin and Quaaludes.

Michelle saw the kid looking at her curiously across the table. He’d find out the way it was, she thought. He should ask his new pal Brian about THAT! Brian could tell the little fish a few nasty stories about the low-riders. After all, he’d been a biker fuckboy when he first got to Stanton. Michelle’s jocker before Dave, Mike, had told her all about it. That was before Bri Baby had been auctioned to that lawyer to pay off a gang debt.

Yeah, Brian could clue the kid in plenty – if he wanted to. But Michelle figured that the blond brat would find that stuff out soon enough all by himself.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin meets Emmy and the queens.

Chapter 7

 

“We’re going to the TV Room and watch some tube,” said Beemer as the guys left the Chow Hall. “You coming, Bri?”

Brian shook his head. “I have to go back to the Library and straighten up those files before tomorrow, because I have more cases coming in and I have to get this crap ready or Ron’ll ream my ass on Thursday.”

Andy guffawed. “Yeah, I bet he wishes! Too bad he can’t come in for a conjugal visit, huh, Bri Baby?”

But Brian wasn’t smiling. “Why don’t you just shut your face, Andy?” He glanced at Justin, who was listening to the conversation with interest.

“Aw, get over yourself, Bri,” Beemer sniped back.

“Take the kid with you up to the tier, okay?” Brian said.

“I ain’t taking him nowhere! If he wants to come with us and watch TV then he can follow along,” Beemer answered, narrowing his eyes. “I told you I ain’t wet-nursing no punks. Why don’t you let Phil babysit him for a while? They could get friendly.”

Justin shrank back against Brian. This friend of Beemer and Andy, this Phil, had been trying to talk to him all day. He was an old fat man with bad teeth. He kept grabbing Justin’s hand and trying to press it against the front of his stained prison khakis. “I don’t really want to,” Justin piped up. “I... I don’t think I like Phil.”

Beemer made a face at Justin. “You know, kid, it don’t really matter what you like and don’t like in here. You just do what you’re told, okay?”

“That’s enough, Beem,” said Brian, stepping in. “If he doesn’t like Phil, then he doesn’t have to talk to him.” Brian pulled Justin away from the older men. “Maybe you better go and sit with Emmy in her room. You can stay there until head count at 10:00, then you can go back to your own place and go to bed, okay?”

Justin was not certain he wanted to spend a lot of time with Emmy and her friends, either, but it didn’t seem like he had much choice. Brian led the kid up the third tier to Emmy’s cell and deposited him there.

Emmy’s place was like a different universe from Brian’s stark cell. It was decorated with colorful posters of movie stars and scarves and feathers were hanging from the pipes and the ceiling. Emmy’s hobby was needlepoint and she had large fancy pillows with extravagant designs that she and her girlfriends had made strewn around the cell. Emmy’s cellie was another queen named Barbie. Barbie had frizzy blond hair and long red fingernails that she was constantly touching up.

All the queens made a fuss over Justin, petting his golden hair and exclaiming over his porcelain skin.

“I have a blue sweater that would be PERFECT with your eyes!” said Emmy. She brought out the sweater and insisted that Justin try it on. It was made of some fuzzy wool and had sparkles all through the loose knit.

“This is a lady’s sweater,” maintained Justin. But Emmy stripped off his chambray workshirt shoved the sweater over his head.

“Of course, Babydoll! What else?” said Barbie, looking at Justin like he was incurably dense. “You don’t think that anyone who hooks up with you is going to be picking you for your manly qualities? You might as well start growing your hair out nice and long. That’s the way most fellas like it.”

Justin swallowed. His throat was feeling very dry. “Everybody keeps talking about hooking up. That creepy Phil was talking to me about it. And Beemer, too. What does it mean?” Justin had a feeling that he wasn’t going to like the answer.

The queens all burst into laughter and began chattering at once. But Emmy held up her hand. “Hold it, ladies! Our little fish needs to be educated so that he can make an informed decision about this important matter,” Emmy said grandly. “Honey, hooking up is what every young lady like yourself must do to survive in this fucking hell-hole. There are scores of eager gentlemen out in the Quad who are anxious to make your acquaintance. We can help advise you who to consider – and also who to avoid.”

“Stay away from the low-riders! That’s number one!” said Lou Lou, a chubby queen with reddish curls.

“The Bros might pay you for a quick blowjob, but they’ll never hook up with you. Their black queens would have a hissy fit if that happened, so they’re out,” said another.

“The Mexicans are a bit rough on their ladies, but they’re real macho men. Some girls like that. But avoid Francisco. He’s a pimp.”

“Yeah, and Little John isn’t called ‘Little’ because of the size of his feet, honey! His dick is so small you’ll need a microscope to find it!”

“Phil is fat and has bad breath, but he always has a lot of money.”

“Butchie is kind of boring, but he’s a nice guy. He always treated his last punk, Eric, real swell.”

“Keep away from Stan. He’s a sex maniac!” Michelle warned.

Emmy giggled. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, girl!” And they all began laughing again.

But Justin felt sick. He slowly took off the sparkle sweater and put his workshirt back on. “I don’t think I want to hook up with anyone. I think I’d rather not.”

All the queens went silent. Emmy reached out and touched Justin’s pale cheek. “Honey, I don’t think you have much choice. Nobody has much of a choice about that. Especially not someone like you. You’re young and you’re soft and you’re pretty. What are you going to do? Fight off a jocker when he decides to claim you? It’s better to pick a man yourself before someone else decides for you. Someone who you don’t like at all. It can mean the difference between an easy ride here at Stanton and a fucking nightmare.”

“That’s true,” agreed Barbie. “My old man isn’t exactly God’s gift, but he’s good to me. He almost never beats on me and he buys me stuff from the canteen. There’s lots worse jockers around than my Danny.”

“Isn’t there some guy who you’ve seen who takes your fancy, honey?” asked Emmy, gently.

Justin’s lip trembled. “Brian,” he blurted out.

“It figures!” snorted Michelle. “Forget it, kid!”

“He’s the only one who’s been really nice to me!” Justin continued. “He’s been watching out for me. He... he likes me. I know that he does.” 

Emmy pursed her lips. “Honey, I don’t think you understand. Bri Baby isn’t a jocker. You can’t really hook up with him. You need a man.”

Justin stared at the queens. “He seems like more of a man than anyone I’ve met in this rotten dump! He’s smart and he talks to me. He’s the only person I feel safe with in this whole joint! And that includes all of you guys!” Justin stood up. “I think I better go now.”

“Honey, wait!” said Emmy, holding him back. “We all love Brian, too. He’s a beautiful person. But... he’s another punk! A punk can’t keep another punk.” 

Justin looked at them all. “Why not? He’s not with anybody. He’s a man to me. Didn’t you blow him, Emmy? that’s what Michelle said.”

Emmy glanced at her friend. “Big mouth bitch!”

“Like we all don’t know you suck him off regularly!” Michelle spat back.

“Jealous?” Emmy retorted.

“See?” said Justin. “You all want Brian! That’s why you don’t want ME to have him! I’m going to tell the guards about all this stuff that’s going on! I’m going to tell my lawyer and he’ll tell the warden! It’s all disgusting! You can’t make me into any fucking GIRL!”

“Justin, listen to me,” said Emmy. Her voice had changed all of a sudden. It was harder, more like a man’s voice. “Everyone knows what goes on in here. The C.O.’s. The warden. The Commissioner of Prisons. Everyone. It happens at every joint, everywhere. Nobody gives a fuck. You’re an inmate and nobody is going to ‘save’ your ass in here but YOU. And the only way you can do that is by playing the game just like everybody else. I’m serious, honey. Otherwise you might be badly hurt. If the men think you’re a snitch who will go off tattling to the guards or the warden, then you are liable to end up dead. That’s what happens to snitches. You’re a nice little boy and we’d all hate to see anything bad happen to you.” 

Justin sat down on one of Emmy’s big pillows. He was sweating. He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what to do.

“I hate to break up this Tupperware Party, ladies, but it’s 8:00 and I’m on the night shift at the Hospital. So I better get my lovely ass over there pronto!” said Emmy. She leaned over to Justin. “You run on home, honey, and lock yourself into your cell. And think about what I told you. Because Bri Baby will tell you the same thing. He survived by playing the game, too. And so will you, hon. So will you.”

The queens poured out of Emmy’s cell and Justin walked along the tier with them, back in the direction of his room. But then he stopped. He turned around. Brian was working in the Library this evening. That’s where he was right this minute. Justin had to talk to him! It was urgent!

Except he didn’t know where the Library was.

He walked back to the other end of his tier and climbed down to the next level. The next tier after that was the ground floor where the Chow Hall was located. He knew the Library was also on the ground tier.

Standing on the second landing was a muscular man wearing a tight white tee shirt. He had tattoos all over his arms. He was leaning against the railing of the stairs, but he straightened up when he saw Justin approaching.

“Excuse me, but can you tell me where the Library is?” Justin asked.

The man grinned. “Sure. Follow me. Right this way, little fishy fish.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disaster.

Chapter 8

 

Brian’s head was aching.

The words on the forms were beginning to swim before his eyes and he knew that he had to stop for the evening even though he wasn’t really finished. Brian was prone to blinding headaches that he knew were caused by a combination of eyestrain and general stress. And that stress was always turned up before one of Ron’s visits.

Brian rubbed his eyes and then closed up the folders. He filed them away in the cabinet. He hadn’t had a chance to work on his own manuscript in over a week. He hoped that after he saw Ron and turned the material over to him then things would ease up and he would have some time to work on his own project. He was looking forward to that.

It was drafty in the Library and Brian shivered in his old, ratty sweater. He made a note on a pad of paper to ask Ron for a new sweater. Well, it didn’t have to be new. It could be one that Ron didn’t want anymore. It didn’t matter as long at it was warm.

It was just past 9:30. Murray was getting ready to close up the main Library, too. They both had to be in their cells for 10:00 lockdown and head count. Brian said good night to Murray and walked out of the Library.

One thing you learned quickly in prison was to be alert to subtle changes in your world. Noticing small things that might save your life. Brian had become especially sensitive to changes in a man’s tone of voice or in the flicker of his eye. Things that signaled danger. Or fury. Or impeding disaster. Sometimes it was a feeling deep in your gut that something wasn’t right. 

The moment Brian stepped into the corridor outside the Library he had that feeling in his gut. It was utterly silent there. But something else alerted Brian’s animal senses. An odd metallic smell in the air. And he also noted that the door of the multi-purpose room where Emmy had blown him yesterday was slightly ajar. It had been shut when he went into the Library earlier in the evening.

Now Brian was afraid.

That metallic smell. He could taste it in his mouth. It was blood. A long time ago he often had been forced to swallow his own blood when someone in the biker tip had punched him in the mouth. He still had nightmares of choking on blood. Blood and semen. Choking until he was dizzy from the lack of air. Nightmares of waking up on some cold, hard floor, covered in filth and unable to move. Unable to hope. Except the nightmares were also memories.

Brian pushed open the door of the small room and a slice of light cut the darkness inside.

The figure huddled on the floor moved slightly.

Brian stepped forward, then dropped to his knees.

The white pants of the new fish were tangled around his legs and raked with smears of drying blood.

Brian turned him over gently.

“Justin?” Brian pulled the boy into his arms. “Christ! No!” he whispered.

Brian felt his face, his neck. His white skin was sticky and hot. The boy’s pulse was racing crazily.

“Can you hear me? Justin?” Brian took the boy’s hand. “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

Brian thought he felt a pressure, but then Justin groaned and moved his head. Now he grasped Brian’s hand tightly. “No,” he murmured. “No.”

“I’m right here, Justin. I’m here.” Brian felt helpless. He didn’t want to leave the kid lying there alone or even let go of his hand, but he had to get help. He pulled his hand out of Justin’s grip and the boy whimpered. “I’m not leaving. I just have to call someone. I’ll be right back!”

Brian stumbled out of the room and pulled open the Library door. “Murray! Call the C.O.’s! Call down to the Hospital for the doc! Someone’s been hurt!”

Murray ran out of the office and gaped at Brian. “What happened? Are you hurt? Brian?” Murray was staring at the blood on the other man’s khaki pants and on the front of his old sweater.

“No, I’m okay. Call someone right now! He’s in the small meeting room!”

Brian returned to the room. He was almost afraid to switch on the light, but he knew that he had to. They couldn’t sit in the dark, waiting for help to arrive.

Brian slipped to the floor. The boy’s blue eyes opened and then squinted against the harsh overhead lights. “Brian!”

“I’m right here.” He took Justin’s hand again and cradled his head in his lap. The boy’s mouth was bleeding and his cheeks and golden hair were also streaked with come where they had jacked off in his face. Brian tried to wipe it all away with the sleeve of his old sweater.

“I knew you’d come and get me,” Justin whimpered. “I knew you’d save me from them.”

“From who, Justin? Who did this to you? Tell me now.”

“The Men from Hell,” gasped the boy. “That’s what they said. That they were from Hell and here to claim me. But I’m not dead, am I? Because you’re here. And you’re not dead.”

The Men from Hell, thought Brian. His own nightmare repeated in this horrible way. The low-riders.

“No, Justin, you’re not dead. And neither am I. We’re both alive. And we’ll both survive. I promise.”

Murray came bursting into the room, followed by two C.O.’s barking orders.

But Brian refused to let them touch Justin until the doctor came. 

Finally Dr. Caputo and an orderly arrived with the wheeled stretcher. The doctor knelt next to the boy and did a quick examination. He shook his head grimly. “We need to get him to the Hospital STAT.”

But Justin cried out in pain and hit out at the orderly when he tried to lift him.

“Let me do it,” said Brian. “You’re hurting him.” Brian picked up the boy and carefully slid him onto the stretcher. Justin still held tightly to Brian’s hand and refused to let go.

“Get back to your tier, Kinney,” snapped one of the C.O.’s. “You’ve already missed head count.”

Brian stared at the man with loathing. “Fuck head count. And fuck you! I’m going to the Hospital with the kid! If you want to write me up, then do it. I don’t give a shit!” Brian turned and walked next to the stretcher down the long corridor and back to the Hospital in the West Wing of the Quad.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian makes a declaration.

Chapter 9

 

When Emmy saw Brian all smeared with blood she knew that something bad had happened to the kid. She just knew it.

Brian was standing, dazed, outside the examining cubicle. He had tried to enter with Justin, but the C.O.’s pushed him away and told him to stay outside.

Emmy pulled up a chair and made Brian sit down. “What happened, Baby?” Emmy asked softly.

Brian’s throat was dry. “The kid. They got to him. I found him when I was leaving the Library.” Brian looked up at Emmy. “He was with you. I left Justin with you!”

Emmy’s mouth dropped open. “I... I had to go to work, Bri! He was walking back to his cell with the other girls. I saw him, honey! He was just fine!”

Brian swallowed. “He... he must have come looking for me,” Brian said. His voice was dead. “It’s my fault.”

Emmy touched the man’s arm. “You told him not to wander around by himself. We all told him not to! It isn’t your fault, Bri Baby.”

“It IS, Em. I said I’d look after him... and... and....” Brian put his head down.

Emmy wrapped her arm around Brian’s shoulders. “Let me get you a nice cup of tea. The kid is in good hands. Doctor C. will take care of him.” Emmy paused. “He’s seen this kind of thing before, Baby. Unfortunately.”

Brian wiped at his eyes with the damp sleeve of his sweater, but there was blood all over it. Emmy brought a mug of hot tea. She saw that Brian had blood on his hands and neck, as well as his face where he had touched himself after holding the kid. Emmy went to the sink and brought back a damp washcloth.

“Take that nasty sweater off and wipe your face with this,” said Emmy in her best nurse’s voice. “You’ll feel better, honey.”

But Brian just sat there, holding the washcloth in his hand. Wringing it first one way and then the other. 

Finally, Emmy took the cloth out of Brian’s hand. “Let me do that for you, Baby,” she said, wiping the smears away as best she could. Then she slipped the blood-stained sweater off his shoulders. “I’ll wash this for you, honey, and it’ll be good as new.”

“No! No!”

Brian bolted to his feet when he heard Justin crying out inside the cubicle. But Emmy held him back. “Sit down, Bri Baby. There’s nothing you can do now.”

So Brian sat back down. The untouched mug of tea sat next to him. Nothing he could do. Nothing. Nothing he could do to protect that kid. Nothing he could do to protect himself so many years ago. He stared at the closed curtain of the cubicle. 

When it had happened to him no one even took him to the Hospital. No one bothered. The C.O. on duty walked right past his cell as he was lying there. It was none of the man’s business, after all. It was low-rider business. Eventually one of the bikers came and shot him up with some of their smack. Not a lot, but enough to keep him numb. That’s all that was necessary. To keep you numb. To keep you under control. To break you down. Until there was nothing left of you.

“That’s what a punk is, kid,” Cisco, the leader of the tip back then, had told him. “Two holes to fuck. Nothing more. That’s all you are. So get used to it.” 

Dr. Caputo and a C.O. stepped out of the cubicle and saw Brian sitting there. “Are you the one who found the kid?” the doctor asked sharply.

Brian stood. “Yes, sir. I found him and then I told Murray in the Library to call for help.”

The doctor glanced at the chart in his hand and made a note. “You’re Kinney, right? The Legal Aid guy?”

“Yes, sir. I’d been working in the Law Library. I was on my way back up to my tier for head count when I found him. Found... the kid. In the... the meeting room.” Brian’s voice faltered.

The doctor looked Kinney up and down. He was in for a long-term but was not a known troublemaker. And he seemed extremely upset by what had happened to the boy, Taylor. Dr. Caputo made a mental note to look up Kinney’s record and see what his story was. The doctor glanced at the C.O., who nodded. “Do you have any idea what the kid was doing off his tier at that hour?”

Brian hesitated. Ron had always taught him that when in doubt, tell the truth. That way you didn’t have to backtrack and then remember what you had invented. “I think he was looking for me. He knew that I was down in the Library.”

“He was looking for you? Why would he be looking for you?” the doctor questioned.

Brian looked down and didn’t answer.

Doctor Caputo sighed. “You two hooked up? Is that why he was looking for you?”

Brian took a deep breath. “Yes, sir. We’re hooked up.”

“Okay, then,” said Dr. Caputo. “You should have told me that before, Kinney. You had better come in here. I need to complete this examination and you’re probably the only one who can calm him down.” The doctor pulled the curtain aside and gestured Brian inside.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A beautiful place.

Chapter 10

 

In the examining cubicle Brian stood next to the bed and held both of Justin’s hands steady while Dr. Caputo and the orderly worked on him. They had the boy in a kneeling position with his face buried in the flat prison pillow. But he was trembling so violently that the doctor was having difficulty.

“Kinney, if you could help me a little here?” said Dr. Caputo, sternly.

Brian leaned over and put his face next to Justin’s. “Try to think about something else. Anything else. Okay?”

Justin turned slightly and Brian could see his tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed blue eyes. “Think of what?” he whispered.

“Think of what you’re going to draw for me. You know, the picture you promised me for my wall. Something free. Like a horse.”

“What kind of horse?” Justin sniffed.

“A wild horse. Like in the movies. A golden horse with a long tail.”

“Running or standing still?” said Justin, his voice a little stronger. Then he flinched and squeezed Brian’s hands.

“Don’t move, damn it!” the doctor ordered.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” the boy wept.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, kid,” said Brian, his voice steely. “Think about that horse. It’s a beautiful horse. It’s free.”

“It’s running,” Justin added. “Running in a valley. Everything is green there. So green. And the horse is all golden.”

“That’s right. Just picture him running right through that valley. He’s getting away. No one can catch him. No one.” Brian touched the boy’s tangled hair.

“Owww! Please!” Justin gasped. “That hurts! Please stop!”

“I’m almost finished,” said the doctor. “Take a deep breath.”

The boy buried his face deeper into the pillow, stifling his sobs.

“It’s almost over, Justin,” Brian whispered. “Your horse is running. You can run with him. That’s where you really are. Not here. But in that beautiful place.”

“Is... is that what you do, Brian? When you... you can’t stand it anymore? Think about that beautiful place?”

Brian bit his lip. “Now you know my secret, kid.”

“That place... you don’t mind if I go there, too. When... when I have to?” Justin asked.

Brian looked over at the doctor, who was wiping his hands on a towel. The orderly carried away the tray and then Dr. Caputo followed him out, closing the curtain behind him.

“No, I don’t mind,” Brian answered. “I think there’s room there for two.”

A little while later Emmy came in. Brian was sitting on a folding chair next to the bed.

“I came to see how the kid is doing, Baby. I was going to ask if he wanted a sleeping pill, but it looks like he’s already out like a light.” 

“The doctor gave him a sedative.” Brian stood up and stretched. “I guess I better get back up to the tier. If they haven’t called out the bloodhounds to go after me.”

Emmy smiled. “It’s okay, hon. Doctor C. sent the C.O. up to cover for you and kid. They know you’re both down here in the Hospital. There are spare beds in the ward. Why don’t you lie down in one?”

“Thanks, Em, but I’ll stay in here.” Brian slumped back down in the folding chair. “In case the kid wakes up.”

“I’ll get you a blanket, Bri Baby. It’s a little chilly in here.”

Emmy went to get the blanket. Brian stood up again and paced back and forth in the cubicle, trying to think. The only way to protect the kid was to keep him as close to him as possible. But hooking up? Brian shook his head. When the doc asked him about it, he’d just opened his mouth and that popped out. But Brian knew that not only was hooking up the only way to save the kid, but that it was what Brian himself wanted. Yes, wanted. Maybe it was selfish, but it was true. But it could also be dangerous, both for Brian and the kid. Especially if the low-riders decided to press their claim to Justin.

“Here you go, Baby,” said Emmy, handing him the blanket. “I tried to wash your sweater in the sink, but it’s kind of falling apart.”

“I know. It’s a mess. But it’s the only one I have,” Brian admitted. He sat back down in the folding chair. It was hard and cold. Brian wasn’t going to have a very restful night.

“Baby, I’ll find you a new one. Why I have sweaters galore! Lots of pretty ones!” Em laughed.

Brian smiled. “I don’t think that your style is quite the same as mine, Em. But thanks for the offer.”

Emmy looked down at Brian and then glanced at Justin, sleeping fitfully in the bed. “Baby, I heard what you told Dr. Caputo. About hooking up with the kid. Are you sure that you know what you’re doing?”

Brian shrugged. “No, but since when has that ever stopped me? You’re always bugging me to hook up, Em. Now you’re telling me that I shouldn’t hook up with Justin? You’re sounding like Michelle.”

“But, Baby, you know that it’s one thing for a couple of queens to hook up. That’s no threat to anyone. Besides, everyone in this joint has already had me. But the kid – he’s fresh meat. All the daddies were drooling over him.”

Brian’s face hardened. “I’m not a fucking queen, Emmett! And I’m no one’s punk anymore. If any of the jockers want to challenge me, then they can challenge me. And I’ll deal with it when it comes. But I’ll be damned if I’m going to let Hoss and his road dogs get their hands on Justin and make him into one of their whores. I... I’ve been there,” said Brian. “And it isn’t going to happen to the kid. At least not while I’m alive.”

Emmy felt cold inside. “Baby, don’t even say that!”

Brian looked directly at Em. “If the low-riders want to press the issue, then it’ll happen. But I’m hoping that they’ll just leave it alone. Most of those guys are short-timers. Hoss only has a year to go until he’s up for parole. Is he willing to risk that for a piece of boy ass?”

“But Bri – are you willing to risk your LIFE for the same thing? A pretty piece of ass?”

“That’s not why I’m doing it, Em,” Brian insisted. “The last thing I need in this joint is sex. I can get that any hour of the day, every day of the week. It’s about... about something more than that. It’s about justice. That boy should never have been put in this shit-hole in the first place. And if the courts and the prison authorities and the C.O.’s aren’t willing to protect him, then I have to do it myself. I have to.”

“Is this about repaying an old debt, Baby?” Emmy asked. “Because Ron isn’t here anymore. And he’d never want you to put yourself on the line for HIS cause.”

Brian shook his head. “Don’t try to talk me out of it, Em. Because it’s too late for that. It’s already a done deal.”

Emmy sighed. “If you say so, Baby. I have to make the rounds now, but I’ll check in on the kid later. Try to get some sleep.” 

“Thanks, Em.”

Brian tried to make himself comfortable in the chair, but it was impossible. So he laid down on the floor and covered himself with the blanket.

“Brian?”

“What, kid?” 

“I... I’m scared.”

“You’re okay. No one is going to hurt you. Try to get some rest.”

“Will you sit up here with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

Brian stood up. His back felt like someone had twisted it in two. “All right. Move over a little.” 

Justin moved to make room for Brian on the narrow hospital bed. Brian kicked off his shoes and pulled the rough blanket over both of them.

“What’s going to happen to me now?” the boy asked fearfully.

“You’re going to be fine. Don’t think about it. Just remember that beautiful place.” Brian put his arm around the kid, very tentatively. He didn’t want to freak Justin out. He didn’t want him to be afraid that Brian was only out to use him, too. 

But the boy moved closer to Brian, sighing. “I’m there. I’m there right now,” Justin said. And they were both lost in a dreamless sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk on the tier.

Chapter 11

 

January 1978

 

“Bri Baby,” said Emmy, shaking him. “Wake up. I’m going off shift and the C.O. wants you to go back up to your cell for morning head count.”

“Huh?” Brian sat up and almost fell out of the narrow bed. Justin was still sound asleep, his mouth slightly open.

“Come on, honey. You don’t want to get written up, do you?” Emmy handed Brian his shoes. “You can come back and check up on Little Miss Muffet later.”

“I need to piss like a race horse, Em.”

“This way, Baby. But hurry up.”

Emmy showed Brian the bathroom where he pissed and washed his face and hands. He had a full schedule of meetings with Ron’s PLD clients, but he also didn’t want to leave the kid alone in the Hospital all day. Shit.

There was blood all over the front of his khaki pants and some on his shirt. Justin’s blood. He tried to wipe it off with a paper towel, but it had already dried to dark brown stains. And Em had said that his sweater was pretty much a total loss, too. Well, he needed to go back up to the cell and change his clothes anyway. And he had one other important thing to do up there, as well. He was looking forward to that.

Before he left the Hospital he ducked back into the cubicle.

“Hey, kid.”

Justin opened his eyes and smiled. “Hey.”

“I’ve got to go back for head count, but I’ll stop in later to see how you’re doing, okay?”

The boy nodded. “Okay.”

“Don’t cause any trouble.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

He reached out and ran one finger down the boy's pale cheek. “All right then. Later,” said Brian.  
“Later,” Justin replied.

Brian walked out of the West Wing and noticed that it seemed especially noisy in the tiers, with a lot of yelling and rattling of doors. He climbed the stairway up to the third level and was immediately stopped by one of the C.O.’s.

“I’m just coming from the Hospital and...” he began.

But the C.O. cut his off his explanation. “Get your ass back to your cell! The Quad is in complete lockdown.”

“It is? I wasn’t aware that....”

“Shut the fuck up, Kinney, and get back to your cell!” the C.O. commanded.

Brian walked along the tier with the C.O. on his heels. All the guys were standing at their doors, waiting to see what was going on. They took note of the blood on Brian’s clothing and his generally disheveled appearance.

“Bri Baby! You mixin’ it up with somebody?”

“Hey, man! I’d like to see the other dude! Did you knock him through the wall?”

“What happened, Kinney? Who got killed?”

“Why are we locked down? What the hell is going on?”

“I’m hungry! When we getting out for chow?”

“I said shut the fuck up, you SOB’s!” the C.O. yelled. “Nobody’s going nowhere until we say so!”

The C.O. racked the door of Brian’s cell to let him inside, then locked it again. “Get changed, Kinney. You have a date with the warden.”

“The warden? Why do I have to see the warden?” asked Brian. But he knew exactly why. Justin.

The C.O. narrowed his beady eyes. “You don’t question people here, Kinney. You just do what the hell you’re told. So clean yourself up.”

Brian stripped off his dirty clothes and washed himself off. Andy was sitting quietly on the lower bunk, not saying a word. Brian tried not to look at his cellie. The more he thought about the way Andy and Beemer had blown off the kid, the angrier he got. He kicked his stained pants and shirt into the corner and put on clean workpants and a tee shirt. He didn’t have another clean chambray shirt to put on until he had time to do some laundry, so this would have to do.

“So, um, Bri,” Andy finally said. “The kid.... Is he all right?”

Brian felt the steam rising inside him. “Now you’re asking about the kid? NOW you give a fuck about the kid, Andy?”

“I... I just wanted to know if... if....” Andy blinked.

“If he’s alive? Is that what you want to know? What’s the word on the tier, Andy? Does everyone understand why we’re under lockdown?”

“I... think that... that.... Fuck if I know, Bri,” mumbled Andy. 

Brian bent over and picked up his stained pants. He shoved them under Andy’s nose. “How do you think I got THIS all over me, Andy? Whose fucking blood do you think this is? Huh? Tell me?” Brian grabbed the front of the older man’s shirt and dragged him to his feet. 

“I... I’m sorry, Bri,” said Andy. Brian was thin, but his arms were like iron from working out up on the pile almost every afternoon. “Jesus! I’m sorry! I didn’t want the kid to get hurt! Neither did Beemer!”

Brian pushed Andy roughly back against the bunks. “What did you think would happen to him, you asshole? When all those horny creeps were trying to get a piece of him? But what do you care? Right? None of your fucking business, that’s what you and Beemer say. Well, guess what? The second that we come out of lockdown I want you OUT of here. You could offer your wrinkled ass to the low-riders but I don’t think they’d want something so stale, so you’d better move in with Beemer. Because if I come back and find any trace of you, I’m throwing you off the tier. And I’m NOT fucking kidding!”

“But... but Brian....” Andy stuttered.

“Shut up! I never want to hear your whining voice again!” Brian walked over and ripped down the photos Andy had taped to the wall. He tossed them at his cellie’s feet. “And take your fucking girlfriends with you!”

“Kinney!” the C.O. called at the door of the cell. “Step up! It’s time to see the warden.”

“I’m coming!” Brian yelled. He turned to Andy. “Remember – when I get back you better not be here. I’m planning on a new roommate from now on.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lockdown!

Chapter 12

 

The Quad stayed in total lockdown all morning. Eventually, the C.O.’s came around with some rolls and plastic bottles of juice to make up for the loss of breakfast, but at that point the men didn’t want food, they wanted information.

Finally, at 11:00 a.m. they began racking the doors and letting the inmates down to lunch, tier by tier. The third tier – Brian’s tier – was the last to go down.

“No talking!” the C.O.’s barked. And the men filed down in relative silence. By the time they reached the Chow Hall, everyone was bursting with questions.

“What’s going down, man?”

“Who the fuck knows?”

“Where’s Kinney?”

“They took him away this morning!”

“Kinney? He’s just a punk!”

“I heard that he caught some dude messing with the new fish and he sliced that dude up good!”

“Kinney? No fucking way!”

“I saw him when he walked down the tier. He was covered with blood, man!”

“I saw it, too!”

“Jesus. He’s probably down in the Hole.”

“What happened to the kid? Is he dead?”

“Don’t know.”

“Kinney beat up his cellie ’cause he dissed that fish.”

“Andy? I don’t believe he’d beat up old Andy!”

“Swear to God, man! He beat on him!”

“Phil was scoping out the kid yesterday. Now he’s afraid Kinney is gonna come after him and stick him! Phil’s shaking in his shoes, dawg!”

“Kinney don’t carry no shiv! Like I said, he ain’t nothing but a punk!”

“Punk can grow some balls, man. Everybody got their limit of what they can take.”

“Well, I ain’t messin’ with him and that’s the truth!”

Emmy entered the Chow Hall with her cellie, Barbie, and all the queens surrounded her immediately and began talking at once. But a C.O. came over and broke it up.

“Move on through the line!” ordered the C.O. “And keep quiet, you fucking freaks!”

“Yes, Sergeant, sweetie,” said Emmy, facetiously. She batted her eyes at him. “We’re moving along right now, hon.”

“Just get going, Honeycutt, and take your girls with you,” said the C.O. Christ, it was a zoo in Stanton today, thought the officer. 

Michelle and the other queens scurried to their regular table, waiting for Emmy and Barbie to go through the chow line. Michelle’s heart was pounding. What if Brian had really messed up a guy? They might take him away from Stanton to a maximum security joint and then Michelle would never see him again! And all because of that damned punk kid!

“Emmy! What happened?” asked Michelle, nervously. “You were on shift at the Hospital all night. You MUST know what’s going on!”

“Keep your voices down, ladies,” Em warned. She set down her tray and slipped into her seat. “They brought the kid in last might. He’d been pounded pretty badly.” Emmy paused for dramatic effect. “Ganged.” 

“Oh, the poor boy!”

“That’s horrible, Em!”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“What about Brian?” Michelle cut in.

“I’m getting to that, honey.” Emmy’s mouth was firmly set. This was a delicate point. Em knew that Brian was planning to hook up with the kid. And Emmy also knew that a lot of the jockers – and the low-riders in particular – might not take that too well. A punk didn’t just grow up into a man overnight. Unless... unless he DID. Unless he showed that he had balls. That he really was a man. Even a jocker could respect that.

“Well?” asked Michelle, anxiously.

“They brought the kid in and they brought Brian in at the same time, but he wasn’t hurt. However, his sweater and his pants were all bloody – and I mean bloody!”

“Ewww!”

“Yes, honey. It was gruesome. The C.O.’s and Doctor C. tried to get Bri to say who did it, but Brian wouldn’t talk. And the kid claims he doesn’t remember anything.”

“So the kid is really alive?”

“Oh, yes, he’s alive and he’ll be okay.”

Michelle’s mouth was gaping. “So... so what do you think really happened, Em?”

Emmy sat back and raised her eyebrows. “I think that our Bri Baby came in and found somebody working over the kid. And I think Bri messed those people over. And I mean messed them over REAL good! But he’s not saying who it was. That’s why we were in lockdown. The C.O.’s were looking to see if anybody was messed up. And I bet that’s why Bri is in the warden’s office. They’re grilling him up there.”

“Brian’s in the warden’s office?” said Michelle in alarm. “Are you sure?”

“That’s what Andy said as we were walking down to chow. The C.O.’s told Bri to get cleaned up – and then they took him away.”

“Jesus!”

“That’s rough, Em!”

“What’s going to happen to Brian?” Michelle fretted.

“I don’t know, dolly,” Emmy asserted. “But Bri won’t talk, that’s for certain. He’s no snitch.”

“Did Bri really beat up Andy?”

Em nodded. “That’s what Andy said. Threw the old bastard against the wall and told him to clear the fuck out of their cell! Because Andy and Beemer didn’t watch the kid when Bri told them to. Now Beemer is afraid that Bri’s going to kick HIS ass, too!”

“I just can’t believe it. Bri Baby is so... so mild mannered,” Barbie insisted.

“Not where this kid is concerned.” Emmy leaned forward and lowered his voice. “They put the kid in a private cubicle off the ward and Bri spent the night in there with him.” The queens stared at Em in disbelief. “It’s true. Doctor C. said it was okay.”

“Does that mean they’re hooked up? For real?” 

Emmy shrugged. “Draw your own conclusions, honey. Because I’m NO gossip!”

Michelle snorted. “Telephone, telegram, and tell a queen! That’s YOU, Em!”

“Then I’ll just shut my little mouth and say no more, sweetie!” Em snapped. And she refused to add any further comments.

But the queens weren’t the only ones speculating about what had really happened the night before. Every man had his own take on Kinney and the new fish and what might have actually taken place.

At the low-riders’ table the conversation was subdued. What had begun as a little recreation with the kid had gone way too far. They’d pegged him as a little faggot and expected the kid to act accordingly and service them all without complaint. But by the time they realized that he’d never been broken in before, it was already too late and he was pretty torn up. They left him on the floor and beat it. The low-riders were certain that Kinney never saw them, but who knew what the kid remembered? And who the fuck knew if he’d yapped to the doc or the C.O.’s? The low-riders sat tensely, as if expecting the hammer to come down on them any minute.

But nothing went down at all. Lunch ended and all the men were told to report to their jobs for the remainder of the afternoon. But the inmates who went to meet with Brian about their cases were turned away and told that the Law Library was closed until further notice.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian meets with Warden Horvath.

Chapter 13

 

Carl Horvath rubbed his eyes as he sat at his desk. He loved it when things were status quo. The day-to-day routine. Horvath had paid his dues in a number of maximum security joints and he was happy that those days were behind him. 

That’s why he liked being the warden of Stanton Correctional. It was a medium security facility, full of short-timers, inmates who had been certified as non-violents, and older men who didn’t want to make waves. There was some gang activity, but nothing too out of control. The bikers were troublemakers in general, but these days they mainly wanted to do their time and get the hell out of Dodge and back to their motorcycles. Even racial tensions were down compared the early years of the 1970’s when many of the black inmates had been radicalized and came into the system pissed off and looking for a fight. But the Bros in Stanton were keeping things cool. Their leader, Baraka, was more focused on working with the Prisoners’ Legal Defense to get his men a little justice than in stirring them up against the system. 

But today was NOT status quo. That’s what was giving him this bitch of a headache.

Horvath had only a few long-termers in Stanton. Most were old lifers who had been moved from other joints to finish out their days in a little peace and quiet. The Hospital Wing had one section that was dedicated to these old men in failing health who had lived most of their lives and now would die in prison.

But there was one notable exception to the long-termer rule. Brian Kinney. He was a young man, not even 30, who was in on a 20-to-life sentence. If you were to consider what he’d been convicted on – including counts of arson, conspiracy, breaking and entering, destruction of property, use of explosive devices, and, most serious of all, murder in the second degree – you would conclude that he was a hard case and probably a desperate and unredeemable character. Until you came face to face with him.

Because the word that Horvath thought of whenever he came into contact with Kinney was gentle. Or shy. Soft-spoken. Articulate. Exactly the opposite of how anyone would picture an inmate in prison for blowing up a building and killing a security guard.

And now this thing with the new fish. Justin Taylor. Only 19 years old. In on a stupid drug charge. Yes, thought Horvath, stupid. Giving a middle class kid with no priors a 5 year sentence for a couple of bags of pot was bullshit. But fighting the kid’s legal battles was not Horvath’s problem. His problem was the fact that the kid was now in the Hospital with his insides ripped up from a gang rape. This was the kind of headache he didn’t need.

But where did Kinney fit into all of this? Horvath had read the reports from Dr. Caputo and the C.O.’s and they’d all repeated the same simple story. Kinney had been working in the Law Library. He was returning for evening head count when he found the kid in the meeting room. He called for help. End of story. Simple. 

Except that nothing like this was ever simple. What was the kid – a new fish who was young and fearful and didn’t know his way around – doing off his tier in the first place? And why was Kinney so insistent on staying with him at the Hospital? How come no one saw anything? How come no one knew anything? It was an old story, but a frustrating one, especially when an innocent boy was the victim. And Kinney was definitely the key to this puzzle.

The C.O. brought the man into Horvath’s office. Kinney looked tired, even beaten down, but he was still a good-looking guy. When Horvath first took over at Stanton about 5 years before the first person to request – no DEMAND – an interview with the new warden had been the disbarred lawyer, Ron Rosenblum, who was working with the Prisoners’ Legal Defense. So Horvath agreed to meet with Rosenblum, who had been accompanied by his ‘associate,’ Kinney. That’s how Rosenblum always referred to Kinney – as his associate. But it was clear to Horvath immediately that Kinney was the man’s punk, first and foremost.

Ron Rosenblum had been full of bluster, carrying a list of requirements that he told Horvath that he expected to be carried out immediately, including better equipment and books for his Law Library, better access to lawyers and expanded conjugal visits for the inmates, better food, a new color television for the TV Room, et cetera. And his ‘associate,’ Kinney, had stood next to him, holding the files and handing Rosenblum his paperwork as he asked for it. Horvath had thought at the time that he was a beautiful kid and had called for his file after they left his office.

What Carl Horvath had read in Kinney’s folder surprised and disgusted him. The previous administration of the prison had basically let the various gangs run things without much interference. Drugs were easier to get inside than outside. Violence was out of control. And some younger inmates were held in virtual slavery to the sexual needs of the gangs, mainly to the bikers who ran the drug trade and most of the prostitution at that time. And this kid, Kinney, had been one of those low-rider punks – until Rosenblum intervened, took him over, and made him his ‘associate.’

Well, Rosenblum was out now, and Kinney ran the Law Library and had taken over all of the PLD work that Rosenblum had done. He’d been, during all of Horvath’s term, an exemplary prisoner. He seemed respected by the other inmates and, except for an occasional smart remark, the C.O.’s had nothing to complain about him. Horvath couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been written up for anything. And now this thing with the kid....

“Okay, Kinney. I’ve read the reports. Now I want to hear the real story,” said Horvath.

“I’ve already told it to the doctor, to the C.O. on duty, to the lieutenant, and also to your assistant. What you see in those reports is all there is, Warden.” Brian sighed and ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “What more can I say?”

Horvath motioned for the C.O. to leave the room. When he’d closed the door behind him, Horvath came out from behind the desk. He took out a pack of cigarettes and offered one to Kinney, who took it. Horvath lit it and let him take a few puffs.

“So... the kid,” said Horvath. “What’s really going on, Kinney?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Warden,” Brian answered. His voice was steady, but his hand holding the cigarette was shaking.

“Who nailed him? The Bros? The bikers? Somebody with a grudge against him? But he’s only been in here one fucking day, so how could he make an enemy in that short a time, huh? So is it someone with a grudge against somebody else? Someone who might abuse the kid because the kid was close to that person? Is that it, Kinney?”

“I don't think so, Warden.” Brian took a few more nervous puffs.

Horvath leaned closer to Kinney. “Doctor Caputo says – off the record, of course – that you and this kid are hooked up. Is that true?”

Brian blinked. “I thought that ‘hooking up’ didn’t exist in prison, especially not in Stanton Correctional. Off the record, of course, Warden.”

“I know that you know who did this, Kinney. Don’t you want them brought to justice? Don’t you want the men who did this to your little friend to be punished?”

Brian blew out a puff of acrid smoke. “Yes, I want them punished. I want their dicks cut off and shoved down their throats! But I live in the real world, Warden. And for me that real world is the Stanton Quad. Because no D.A. is going to prosecute an inmate for attacking another inmate. I know that and you know that. The most that will happen is that you’ll put a few guys in the Hole for a couple of days. Then they’ll get out and their next move will be to KILL the kid for snitching on them. You know, being raped is nasty, Warden, but being killed really ruins your fucking day!”

Horvath frowned. “So I should do nothing, huh, Kinney? That’s your idea of justice?”

“No, Warden – that’s SOCIETY’S idea of justice for so-called criminals!” Brian blasted. “My idea is that I want the kid – Justin is his name, by the way, in case anyone gives a shit – to survive. And I want to survive, too, Warden. I plan on doing everything I can to get this boy out of Stanton as soon as is humanly possible. I plan to ask Ron to make his case a #1 priority. But I can’t do that if he’s dead – or if I’m dead.”

Horvath understood what Kinney meant. If the men who attacked the kid thought that either Kinney or the kid had snitched on them, then they were both dead men. “What if I put the boy in protective custody?” 

Brian’s face went red. “Protective custody? For the remainder of his sentence? Or until he gets parole? That’s what? One year? Two years in virtual solitary confinement? No recreation? No contact with anyone but the C.O.’s? Never being able to go outside to the Yard or to the Chow Hall or the Library or the fucking Chapel? You want to subject a 19 year old boy to THAT kind of isolation, Warden?” 

Horvath leaned back against his desk. “Then what would you have me do, Kinney? No one can protect any inmate 24 hours a day, even in a prison!”

Brian swallowed. “Then let me do it. Put the kid in with me, in my cell. I’ll be responsible for him. I’ll take care of him. If... if the men think that he’s hooked up with me, then they’ll back off. I guarantee it. Believe me, this was nothing personal against either me or the kid. It was about power. It was about people who wanted to take Justin and use him.” Brian paused and stared at the cigarette smoldering in his hand. “That’s something I know about, Warden. I lived it. The bikers didn’t give a shit who I was or what I was in for. All they knew was that I was vulnerable. That I was unprotected. And so they took me. The fact that I’m alive today is a fluke. Or maybe it’s Fate. But I AM here and I’m going to make sure that the kid is here tomorrow and the next day and that he walks out of here in one piece. I’m not saying that he’ll be undamaged. He already IS damaged. But if I have anything to do with it he won’t be completely broken.” 

Horvath looked Kinney up and down. How did a man like this come to be in a place like Stanton? And how had he retained his sanity, let alone his humanity over the past 9 years? Horvath knew that he couldn’t have done it in the same circumstances.

“Okay, Kinney, I agree. Tell the C.O. on your tier that I’ve approved the move.” Horvath walked around his desk and sat down. “Because of this incident the entire Quad is in punitive lockdown until Sunday.”

“But Warden....”

Horvath snapped the folder on his desk shut. “I need to show the men that there are consequences to actions such as this for the entire population. That means that except for meals and work everyone is in lockdown. No Yard, no Rec Room, no iron pile, no TV Room. That means the Library, too, and Legal Aid. Also, all visits are canceled for this week. ALL visits.”

“But tomorrow I’m scheduled to meet with Mr. Rosenblum about....”

“That will have to wait for next time, Kinney. No exceptions.” Horvath set his jaw. He was the warden and being the warden was about being in control.

Brian shook his head. “Can I ask one more thing, Warden?”

“Yes, Kinney. What now?”

“Can I stay down in the Hospital with the kid during work hours? If the Law Library is closed and I can’t meet with clients, then I have nothing to do. So can I sit with the kid? I... I think it will help him.” And help me, too, Brian thought. 

“Okay, Kinney. I’ll clear that with the C.O.’s, too.” Horvath stood up and reached across the desk to shake Kinney’s hand. 

Brian took Horvath’s hand tentatively. He didn’t want the warden to think that he was making any kind of ‘deal’ with him or that Brian was compromising himself in any way to the prison establishment. Because that was something Brian would never, ever do. This wasn’t about compromising his principles. 

No. This was about Justin. And about himself.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin is feverish.

Chapter 14

 

Justin felt feverish.

He remembered Brian’s body against his all night in the narrow hospital bed. Justin was under the covers and Brian was on top of them, but the two were touching all night long.

Justin had often dreamed of a beautiful man. Touching him. Holding him. Sleeping next to him. He’d wake up in his room in the Taylors’ house in Pittsburgh to find that he’d messed up the sheets. Justin pulled them off the bed and hurried to wash them before his mother noticed. It was only later that Justin realized that all boys have wet dreams. Only most boys don’t have those wet dreams about other men.

Justin had minor crushes on other boys in his school, but what he really longed for wasn’t another boy, but a man. A real man. Someone tall. Beautiful. Strong. Brave. Maybe it was stupid, but Justin had dreams about a man who would sweep him off his feet, just like in the movies. Someone who Justin could worship. 

Justin had never met anyone like that at St. James Academy. Or in his upper middle class neighborhood. The boys he knew seemed so mundane. They were all obsessed with sports and cars and girls – things Justin couldn’t have cared less about. And the men were all dull. Businessmen in proper suits, always going to work. Or men in shorts holding their martinis at the country club. They didn’t think about the same things Justin thought about. They didn’t care about the same things Justin cared about. And everyone was straight. Except Justin. He was a freak and he was terrified that one day everyone would find that out.

And then he was arrested and his world came crashing down for real. Justin thought that things could never be more horrible than that moment when he entered Stanton Correctional on the bus, his hands and feet shackled together. 

But that had not been the worst. What happened to him on the floor of that dark little room, what those men with the tattoos – the Men from Hell, they told the boy – did to him was underneath the worst that Justin could imagine.

But then he’d felt someone hold him. Stroke his face. Call him by name. 

Justin opened his eyes and saw the Face of God. Brian. Everything he’d ever dreamed of.

The day shift physician, Dr. Gomez, noticed that Justin’s temperature had spiked. He was afraid that the boy had developed some kind of infection. That meant another painful and humiliating examination, only this time Brian wasn’t there to hold Justin’s hand and stroke his head. Brian wasn’t there to help him live through it and take him to that beautiful place beyond the walls of the prison. Instead, one of the inmate orderlies held Justin down while Dr. Gomez probed and swabbed and then gave him more injections.

Then they closed the curtain of the cubicle, leaving the boy alone, crying for his mother. And calling for Brian.

“Who is this Brian?” Dr. Gomez asked the orderly.

“Tall guy. I think the kid must be hooked up with him.”

The doctor frowned. “I thought the kid just got here. And he’s hooked up already?”

The orderly shrugged. “You gotta, doc. Or else stuff like this will happen to you all the time. You’re fucking fair game.”

“Jesus,” said Dr. Gomez, moving to the next patient. “What a life!”

Justin drifted in and out of sleep. It was light out, but he wasn’t sure if it was the same day. Time had no meaning at all. Another orderly brought Justin some soup, but he threw it up immediately. Then they gave Justin some juice, but he threw that up. too. The doctor came and stuck an I.V. in his arm, pouring a solution into him, the doc said, so he wouldn’t get dehydrated. And then he was left alone again.

But something cool and damp was on Justin’s skin. A wet cloth. Wiping his forehead, his neck, his chest. The cool water dripped into his hair and down the back of his neck. A hand caressed his cheek, his brow. He knew that hand, that touch. 

Justin opened his eyes. “Brian.”

“Hey, kid. How are you feeling?”

“Not so great.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll be fine.”

Justin closed his eyes again and went back to sleep, knowing that he was safe.

It was evening when he woke again. The light was dim and the ward was quiet. The curtain opened and Emmy came in, wearing her white orderly uniform and carrying a large mug. Justin fluttered his eyes, but he was too warm and comfortable to move.

“Bri Baby,” Emmy said to the figure sitting in the folding chair next to the bed. “Have a little tea. I just made some in the break room.”

“Thanks, Em. What time is it?” asked Brian.

“About 10:00. Do you have to go back for head count?”

“No,” answered Brian. “I squared it with Dr. Caputo. He told the C.O.’s he needed me down here and that the warden okayed it. They don’t care. Everyone’s still in lockdown anyway.”

“Yeah, Baby, lockdown is making all the guys antsy.”

“I know, Em. But the warden was pissed about what happened to the kid. So the guys are just going to have to suck it up.” Brian sighed. “Do you think this fever is serious? I mean, is he in any danger?”

Emmy patted Brian’s shoulder. “No, Baby. His temperature’s down and tomorrow they’ll take him off that I.V. He’ll be good as new in a couple of days.”

Brian laughed bitterly. “Good as new? I don’t think so.”

“Honey, he’s young,” said Em, encouragingly. “He’ll heal. And he’ll forget. Eventually.”

“Eventually?” said Brian, sadly. “I was only a little older than Justin – and I haven’t forgotten.”

“Oh, Baby, that was something else again. That was months and months. And even so you turned out just fine!”

“Did I, Em?” Brian returned. “Am I fine? Because I wonder about that. Because I don’t feel fine. I haven’t felt fine in... in... not since long before I got to this joint. So many places inside me feel dead. Just... dead.”

Emmy’s heart sank more than a little. Of all the men in the joint, Brian was one who always put on a strong and steady face. But that facade seemed to be crumbling more and more. She had noticed it first after his cellie, Ron, got out. Brian acted as if he’d lost a part of himself. He walked around, talking to himself as if he still was talking to Ron. And he spent more and more time alone, either in his cell or in the little Law Library, sometimes barely speaking to anyone for days on end.

“Bri Baby, whatever place inside you that’s helping this kid sure isn’t dead,” Em pointed out. “Think about that. Please?”

“Brian?” the boy whimpered.

“Speak of the devil!” exclaimed Emmy. “Good evening, Sunshine!”

“Hey,” said Brian, leaning over the bed. “How are you doing?”

“Thirsty,” Justin rasped. His lips and mouth felt so dry.

Emmy handed Brian a plastic cup with a straw and Brian put it up to the boy’s mouth. He sucked down the tepid water.

“You feel a lot cooler.” Brian felt his forehead, then his neck.

“I didn’t know you were a nurse,” said Justin. “I thought you were a lawyer.”

Brian smiled. “I’m neither of those things, kid. I’m not much of anything, actually. Except an inmate. Nothing more.”

“Face of God,” mumbled Justin.

“Huh? What do you mean?” asked Brian, startled. He thought that the boy was hallucinating.

“I... I saw the Face of God,” Justin repeated, staring at Brian.

Emmy raised her eyebrows. “You were dreaming, Sunshine!”

“No!” He reached for Brian’s hand. “Don’t leave me alone!”

“I won’t,” Brian replied. “The doc said I could stay – as long as I didn’t get in the way down here. Even the warden said it was all right.”

“The warden? Really?” Justin suddenly felt very tired again.

“Yup. He’s worried about you and wants you to get better, okay?”

“The warden is worried about me?” Justin pictured the warden as a far away presence, like the president.

“He says that I can keep an eye on you. That is... if you want me to.” Brian brushed a strand of blond hair out of the boy’s eyes. “Do you want me to, Justin?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I want you to.” And he closed his eyes again. But he knew that Brian would be there when he opened them again.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron waits on Visiting Day.

Chapter 15

 

As Ron Rosenblum stood, waiting at the entrance to the Stanton Correctional Facility on Visiting Day, he once again mused on the fact that he was the only man in the line.

The other visitors were the wives, mothers, and girlfriends of the inmates. Poor women, for the most part, many of them minorities, but all of them worn-looking and dead tired. Almost all had come a long way by bus, often spending money they could ill afford, in order to visit their men for one brief hour. They stood, shivering in the January wind, clutching packages of food and clothing for the inmates. And next month they would be back again, standing in this same line. With Ron.

At first they had stared curiously at Ron in his expensive three-piece suit, but eventually the women came to accept him. They greeted him and asked him how he was feeling and how his boy was doing. He became one of them, standing in that line. Because he was no longer a lawyer, Ron was unable to meet with Brian more regularly. Instead, he came listed under Brian’s ‘Family.’ All of the C.O.’s, who remembered Ron from when he was inside, knew he wasn’t a member of Brian’s family, but they went along with the fiction.

Ron gripped his briefcase instead of a bag of food. He always had so much business to get through that there was little time for much personal chitchat. Ron was glad of that, actually. Too much personal conversation might well reveal the truth – that Ron truly was no different from the wives and girlfriends who came back month after month merely for the opportunity to gaze at their loved ones for an hour and to quietly hold their hands before their men were taken back behind bars. And Ron came for the same reason. He had to see his lover and this was the only way.

The C.O.’s allowed Ron and the women to file inside a waiting room. There were never enough chairs for everyone to sit down, but at least they were out of the cold. The women greeted and kissed each other like old friends, discussing when their men were due for parole, how many months they had left on their sentences, and how soon it might be until they were back at home. 

That was one thing Ron never tried to think about, let alone discuss with anyone. Brian’s chances of parole anytime soon were so remote as to be in outer space. It could well be another 10 years or more before Brian would even be considered for parole. Brian would probably be in his 40’s, and Ron, who was already feeling all of his own 49 years bearing down on him, would be an old man. That thought depressed him.

“Let me have your attention, people!” a C.O. shouted. He sounded very serious, so everyone immediately quieted. “I regret to inform you that all visits have been canceled due to the entire prison being in punitive lockdown! This is by order of Warden Carl Horvath. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, ladies. We hope to see you all next month.”

But if the C.O. thought that the women would just go away quietly, he was wrong. Instead, they got angry. They demanded to know what was going on! 

“I come by bus all the way from Erie and now you tell me I can’t see my man? I wanna know why!” one woman yelled.

The C.O. held up his hands. “Ladies, please! There’s been an incident inside and all privileges have been revoked – and that includes all visits. I’m sorry, but that’s the reality. Have a nice day!” And the C.O. turned and walked back inside.

Ron stood with the women and felt like he’d also been hit in the face. Since his release from Stanton, he’d never missed a Visiting Day and only now that it had been denied him did he realize how much he depended on it. Depended on seeing Brian, even for an hour. Ron sat down in one of the vacated chairs and dropped his briefcase on the floor. Fuck his case notes! He wanted to see Brian! Talk to Brian. 

The last time Ron had seen him was right before the Holidays. All the women had brought Christmas presents for their men that day. New clothes and boxes of cookies and batteries for their transistor radios and all the little things that made life inside slightly easier. Ron remembered guiltily that he had brought Brian nothing that day, not even a fucking card. Which meant that Brian had gotten nothing for Christmas. Nothing at all.

What a fucking jerk I am, thought Ron, holding his head. What the hell is wrong with me?

“Hey, Rosenblum.”

Ron looked up to see a C.O. he’d been friendly with inside. Ron had even given the guy some advice on a divorce settlement. Ron often gave the guards a little free legal advice. It always helped to be in good with all sides when you were in the joint.

“Hello, Gene. What’s up today? Why can’t we go in?”

Gene shook his head. “Some young kid got busted up real bad and Horvath is on the rag over it. But I gotta tell you, Ron – your boy is mixed up in it somehow.”

Ron’s heart stopped. “Brian? Mixed up? In what way?”

“I don’t know, man. I wasn’t on duty when all this shit went down, but your punk is down in the Hospital. Something about that kid who got rammed.”

“Brian in the Hospital?” Ron stood up. “Let me in to see him, Gene! For fucksake!”

“You know I can’t do that, man! I’m sorry but I can’t.” The C.O. really was sorry. He liked Ron and he liked Brian. They never caused trouble and their Legal Aid services kept tensions down among the inmates. 

Ron sat back down. He felt dizzy. “Brian would never hurt some kid! I don’t get it.”

“Bri Baby didn’t do anything to the kid,” said Gene. “The hearsay is that he was defending the punk from some gang, but nobody knows if it was the bikers or the Bros or who the fuck. I don’t know if Bri really got hurt bad or not, but he hasn’t been back to his cell recently and the word is he’s still down in the Hospital. That’s all I know, Ron. Sorry.”

“Thanks for telling me, Gene. At least that’s something. Not much, but something.” 

Ron tried to think. He wanted to see the warden, but he knew there was no way they’d let him in. He had no fucking status at all. He wasn’t Brian’s lawyer and he wasn’t his family. He was nothing. He was Brian’s lover of 8 years – and that meant zero to anyone. Brian could be injured or even dying in there and no one gave a shit! 

So Ron stood up and walked out into the falling snow. Back to his car for the long drive back to Pittsburgh.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback to 1969.
> 
> This is backstory for Brian's story and will give some insight into why he's in prison and his relationship with Ron Rosenblum.

Chapter 16

 

1969

 

“One more thing before I have to go, Ron,” said Julie, Ron Rosenblum’s Prisoners’ Legal Defense lawyer. “You know the Brian Kinney trial?”

“Of course,” Ron replied. The Kinney trial had been the cause celebre of the radical legal community for most of the past year. The fact that Kinney had been convicted and given a heavy sentence had been seen as a strike against both the anti-war movement and leftist politics. “I was reading about it in the ‘Pittsburgh Clarion’ and the ‘New York Times.’ The kid was fucking railroaded!”

“I know, Ron. That’s the way everyone feels,” said Julie. “But here’s the thing – John says that his contacts tell him that Kinney wasn’t sent to a maximum security prison after all. John says that he was sent here, to Stanton.”

Ron frowned. “Brian Kinney? Here? No, Julie, you’re wrong. If Brian Kinney was in this prison I would know about it. I know everyone in this joint!”

“Well, Ron,” said Julie, standing up and preparing to leave. “John says that he’s here and has been here for a month or more. John’s contacts in the prison administration are really good, so I tend to take them seriously. If you can track Kinney down, he would be a fantastic addition to the Prisoners’ Legal Defense team. His participation would attract other prisoners, as well as giving us more credibility with possible donors who think he got a raw deal.”

“I’ll ask around, Julie, but I think John is mistaken. He’s not in this facility.” Ron stood and gave Julie a hug. “Please call Jane and tell her I’m well.”

“I will, Ron. She and kids are doing okay, really,” she answered. 

“Thanks.”

“Good luck, Ron.”

After Julie left, Ron walked back to his cell thinking about what she had said. Brian Kinney in this prison. That was impossible. Although most of the prisoners here couldn’t care less about radical politics or well-known legal cases, Ron was sure that the entry of a famous prisoner would cause some talk. Unless the administration had purposely downplayed his presence here. Or unless they were keeping him under wraps. Maybe in protective custody, although why they would do that Ron didn’t know. But it all seemed odd. 

So Ron decided to do a little investigating.

First, he surveyed his PLD clients. These were the men who Ron was advising on pending cases. None of them recognized the name ‘Brian Kinney’ or remembered anyone of his description in the Chow Hall or the Rec Room or wandering the Yard. Then he used his connections among the guards. But none of them had ever heard of Ron’s elusive inmate, either.

“You got this guy’s number?” asked one of the C.O.’s. The guards hadn’t been too cooperative and Ron felt that they knew more than they were saying.

“No, but he’s new. He must have come in within the last two months. He’s young. He was a college student. Not a typical con. A first-timer.”

“What’s he in for?” said the C.O., crossing his arms defensively.

Ron hesitated. He didn’t want to push the radical anti-war angle, especially since most of the C.O.’s were right-wing rednecks. “Second-degree murder, among other things. But he’s not really a violent offender,” Ron said, knowing how lame that sounded.

“Don’t know anything,” said the C.O. – and all the other guards said the same thing.

When Julie came for her next visit Ron told her what he’d found out. Which was nothing. But Julie was unconvinced. “John swears that he’s here, Ron. I wonder if they are keeping him in some kind of isolated area. Because if they are, we want to lodge a protest! That’s cruel and unusual punishment!”

Ron sighed. “Every fucking thing that happens in prison is cruel and unusual. You can’t imagine some of the things I’ve seen in here, you just wouldn’t fucking believe it! The gangs rule the roost, drugs are everywhere, and guys get sexually assaulted right in front of the C.O.’s and they just look the other way! So I don’t think any kind of complaint that the PLD might submit is going to have much of an impact. Besides, I can’t even find the man, Julie! It isn’t like he could just disappear!”

Julie gave him a disgusted look. “What can I say, Ron? The guy is in there. Keep looking.”

Ron had one last possibility. Ralph was an elderly man who prided himself on knowing all the ins and outs of Stanton. He’d been in the joint for 15 years and he watched everything that went on from his little corner of the second tier. Ron described Kinney and asked if Ralph knew anything.

The old man leaned back. “You sure you want to track this fella down, Ronnie?”

“Yes,” answered Ron. “This is driving me nuts, Ralph. I have to know what’s going on here!”

“Well, about two months ago I seen a new fish came in. Young fella. Tall. Good-looking. Scared-looking.”

“That’s got to be him, Ralph! Was he transferred out?”

“No, Ronnie, he’s here. You just ain’t seeing him where you’re looking.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Then where the fuck is he?”

Ralph gazed at Ron seriously. “Cisco’s boys took that kid the first night he was here. He’s in the South Wing, second tier, where the low-riders have their tip. He’s one of their punks.”

“Shit,” said Ron. That was bad news. Very bad news. “Then why hasn’t anyone seen him in the Chow Hall or on the Yard?”

“Bikers keep their punks on low rations, Ronnie. Low rations of food and high rations of dope. That’s how they keep them under control. They probably only let him out for special occasions.”

Ron felt himself go cold. “What... what kind of special occasions?”

“Cisco’s bikers run two things in this joint, Ronnie – dope and pussy. That’s what they control and that’s what they sell. Your boy is what? 21?”

Ron considered. “I think Kinney isn’t even 21 yet. He was only a freshman in college when he was arrested.”

“There you go. Pretty young kid like that is probably the belle of the ball in the bikers’ tip.”

“Jesus,” said Ron. “But the C.O.’s... wouldn’t they do something? They wouldn’t just let... let this kid....” He couldn’t continue.

“You know the bulls are in the pocket of whoever pays them off. They wouldn’t do shit, especially not for some new fish. Especially over in the South Wing. Anything goes over there, Ronnie. Cisco probably lets them have a turn at the kid, too. The more the merrier.”

Ron went back to his cell and sat down. He knew the way things worked in Stanton. He had used the corruption of the system himself. When his cellmate had been paroled, Ron had bribed the C.O.’s on his tier to let him keep the cell private so that he could do his legal work in peace. 

But this was beyond Ron’s comprehension. What the fuck could he tell Julie? That her famous radical inmate was turning tricks in prison for a bunch of degenerate bikers? Well, that was the end of that. Once the low-riders got hold of someone, that was it. They didn’t give up their property without a fight and Ron was in no position to fight them.

But over the next week the idea of at least getting a look at Kinney, assessing the situation, and seeing if there was anything that he could do began to consume Ron. After all, Cisco and the bikers had a lot of brawn, but Ron had a brain. And that counted for something, even in the joint. At least Ron hoped it counted for something.

Because it might be that kid’s last chance.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback to 1969.
> 
> Ron finds Brian -- and almost wishes he hadn't.
> 
> For Brian-lovers this may be a hard chapter to read, so be forewarned.

Chapter 17

 

1969 

 

It took three days for Ron to work up the courage to leave the relative safety of the East Wing and visit the low-riders’ tip in the South Wing of Stanton Correctional. 

The South Wing was a place where Ron didn’t venture very often. It was sometimes referred to as the Wild, Wild South and the name was apt. Even the C.O.’s didn’t like to involve themselves too much in the activities that went on there – except maybe to cut themselves a piece of the corrupt pie. 

Ron did a bit of research on some of the low-riders and found out that one of them was due for a parole hearing in a few months. Ron worked up some notes, slipped them into a folder, and headed for the South Wing.

Cisco, the leader of the gang, was lounging outside his cell on a deck chair that looked like it had come off a cruise ship. He was openly smoking a joint and passing it to two of his road dogs, who were hanging out with him, surveying the scene.

“Counselor, what can I do for you, man?” asked Cisco, offering Ron another chair and then a toke on the joint.

“No, thank you,” said Ron, declining the weed. “This isn’t a social call, gentlemen.” Ron produced his paperwork. “I notice that one of your men, Mr. Hansen, is due for a parole hearing in June.”

“That’s Red Wolf here,” Cisco said, pointing to one his pals, a lanky biker with a pronounced squint. “He’s getting out soon.”

“Well, you might assume that,” said Ron. “But, as you know, it always helps to prepare for an appearance before the Parole Board. It helps to make a good impression, to be well-groomed and well-spoken. The Parole Board can turn down an inmate for any reason – including not liking your looks or your attitude.”

“That’s true, man!” exclaimed Red Wolf. “I gotta make a good impression!”

Cisco nodded. “And where do you come in, Counselor?”

“It’s part of my job as the inmate liaison for the Prisoners’ Legal Defense to prepare inmates for parole hearings and court dates.”

“The lia-what-the-fuck?”

“The inmate liaison. Your men haven’t been taking advantage of our services. I’m here to make you aware of them and to offer to help you learn to use the legal system to your advantage.” Ron’s heart was pounding, but he thought things were going well so far.

Cisco smiled. “That’s mighty kind of you, Counselor. What do we gotta do?”

Ron explained that he would help Red Wolf – or any of the other bikers – get ready for their parole hearings. Also, if any of them came up for disciplinary measures, Ron would advise them of their rights and try to mediate with the warden. He would also get them connected to Prisoners’ Legal Defense lawyers on the outside to look over their cases for possible appeals. 

The more Ron talked, the more Cisco seemed interested. He was nodding and grinning, punctuating Ron’s monologue with hoots of “That’s righteous, man!” and “Right on, dude!”

“I think we can do some business, Counselor,” Cisco said when Ron had finished his presentation. “Let’s have us some refreshments to celebrate.” Cisco pounded his fist against the door of the cell. “Hey, bitch! Bring out a couple of beers!” Cisco waited a minute and then stood up. “Excuse me a second, Counselor, but I have a situation here.” He went into the cell and Ron heard a crash. “I told you to MOVE your fucking ass! Now get those beers out here, pronto!”

Red Wolf shook his head. “He ain’t gonna get that bitch to move when she’s nodding out. He’s got too much of that shit in her.”

The other road dog, Speed, shrugged. “What ya gonna do? The bitch is so wasted she can’t do nothing.” Speed leaned over to Ron. “New bitch keeps trying to run away,” he said confidentially.

“Um, that’s too bad,” said Ron. He had a very bad feeling that he had found his quarry at last.

“Yeah, but Cisco will keep her in line,” bragged Speed. “You got a punk over in the East Wing, Mr. Rosenblum?”

Ron cleared his throat. “No, I don’t. I’m married.”

The low-riders laughed raucously. “Me, too!” said Red Wolf. “And Cisco’s got a couple of old ladies in different states. But they ain’t in here! No, they ain’t. You ever want some good pussy, you just let us know. We got the best in the Quad – guaranteed. Cisco picks ’em out and breaks ’em in personally.”

“That’s... very nice,” said Ron. He was beginning to be sorry that he had gotten involved in this whole affair. He was obviously in over his head with these creepy bastards. 

Cisco emerged from the cell pushing another inmate before him. He was a tall and painfully thin kid and he stumbled as Cisco jerked him to a stop in front of Ron. “Counselor, this is our hostess, Baby. Baby, offer the gentleman a drink.”

The kid handed Ron a can of beer. Pot, beer, smack – there was nothing the bikers couldn’t get if they wanted it. Including, as Red Wolf had boasted, the best pussy in the joint. 

Ron looked at Baby closely, unable to believe that this was the infamous campus radical and convicted murderer he had been searching for. But there was no denying that Baby was a beautiful kid. He had a delicate, almost classical, face, with full red lips and a pointed chin. But his hazel green eyes were unresponsive, with that stoned glaze that Ron had come to recognize in addicted inmates. And he had some nasty bruises on his neck. Ron imagined that he had a lot more underneath his workpants and prison shirt. 

“That’s better. Now sit down and keep your mouth shut!” ordered Cisco, plopping himself into the deck chair. Baby slumped down on the cement floor of the tier, almost completely out of it. He didn’t look like he was capable of saying much of anything. Cisco patted his head like a dog and toyed with his long chestnut hair. “You like Baby, Counselor?”

Ron took a sip of his beer, but not very much. He was feeling sick to his stomach. “Very nice,” he repeated, unsure of the correct response.

“You like getting your cock sucked?” Cisco asked. “Because Baby’s got a mouth like a tub of butter and that’s the truth!”

“I... I’m sure.” Ron knew that he had to get the hell out of there. He choked down the beer as quickly as he could and then stood up. “I’ll be in touch, gentlemen. We’ll need to prepare Mr. Hansen for his parole hearing.”

“Righteous, man!” said Cisco. He stood up and shook Ron’s hand. “Anything that you need, Counselor, you just let me know. And I mean anything.”

Ron took a deep breath. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And Ron fled out of the South Wing. There was no way that he was going to tell Julie that he had found Kinney – or tell her what he had seen. He wished he hadn’t seen it himself. But he also found that he couldn’t stop thinking about ‘Baby’ and what his life must be like in the low-riders’ tip.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another flashback to 1969.
> 
> Cisco makes a "delivery" to Ron for services rendered.
> 
> Again, these flashbacks may be disturbing to some readers, so be aware.

Chapter 18

 

1969

 

Ron began working with Red Wolf – whose real first name was Lamar – to get him ready to face the Parole Board, which meant that he was visiting the low-riders’ tip in the South Wing regularly.

And every time he was there, Ron looked for Baby. Sometimes the kid was sitting on the floor of Cisco’s cell, nodding out in the corner, or else he was lying in the top bunk, staring out at the tier with blood-shot eyes. 

But at other times Baby was out ‘working.’ Because regardless of all their scams, the bikers seemed short of ready ‘cash’ – either the cigarettes or other canteen goods that served as currency in Stanton. Ron was starting to believe that something had gone wrong with the low-riders’ drug pipeline. Many of the inmates were complaining that drugs were in short supply and that what was available was often low grade. So Baby and her biker punk compatriots were being hustled all over the prison, as if Cisco and his boys were trying to make up for the short-fall.

One evening Ron was sitting in his cell, going over some cases. Soon he would be moving his books and files over to the Library. He had managed to wrangle a small storage room there that he was making over into a Law Library and Legal Aid office. The PLD had provided the money and Ron had hired some inmates to build him shelves and paint the room. He had also gotten the prison administration to donate an old desk and some file cabinets as well as a typewriter for the office. 

As soon as the room was ready, Ron planned to move his flood of case files and open up shop. Ron felt that having his own office would increase his status among the inmates and the administration. The men could come to a real office and Ron wouldn’t have to trek all over the Quad to meet with his clients.

“Hey there, Mister R.”

Ron looked up and saw Red Wolf at his door. “Mr. Hansen, what can I do for you?”

“Nothing for me, Mister R. Cisco’s been pretty happy with the way you’ve been helping me and the other guys, so he wanted to give you a little present.”

Ron stood up. “That’s not necessary, Mr. Hansen. You know how I operate. I collect my fee in the ‘good will’ of my clients.” Yes, thought Ron, and in pulling in favors from them when I need them in the future.

“Hey, nobody does nothing for free, Mister R. We know that. And we’ll do right by you – eventually. Cisco’s a little... um... short of credit right now, but there’s one thing he ain’t short of. So here’s something to tide you over.” And with that Red Wolf opened the door of Ron’s cell wider and pushed Baby through it. “I’ll come by tomorrow before breakfast and take her back to South. Enjoy yourself, Mister R.” Red Wolf turned and ambled away down the tier.

“Wait a minute! Lamar! Mr. Hansen!” Ron called after the biker, but he just kept going.

Well, thought Ron, you wanted to find this kid and now he’s been delivered to your door like a goddamn pizza!

Baby leaned against the wall of Ron’s cell, glancing around nervously. His smooth skin looked pasty and there were dark shadows under his long-lashed eyes.

“Would you like to sit down?” Ron gestured to the lower bunk. The upper bunk was full of case folders waiting to be taken over to the new office, but Ron guessed that he could clear it off and let the poor kid sleep there tonight.

Baby sat on the bed and bit at his index finger. “Can I have some water, please?”

That was the first coherent sentence that Ron had ever heard the kid utter.

“Certainly.” Ron took out a clean mug and filled it at the sink. The kid sucked down the water. Ron wondered if the drugs had badly dehydrated him. He must be hungry, too. “Would you like some cookies? My wife, Jane, made them.” Ron pulled a tin off the shelf and passed it to the kid.

Baby stared at the cookies and then stared at Ron. Then he took a handful and shoved them into his mouth as if he were starving.

“Whoa! Careful! Don’t make yourself sick, kid,” said Ron. He gently took away the tin. “You can have some more later. Are you really... that hungry?”

“It’s okay,” the kid answered, sniffling. Then he drank the rest of the water and handed the mug back to Ron.

Ron began to clear the top bunk, stacking his files on the floor. “It’s getting close to 10:00 lockdown, so if you’re tired... I mean, if you want to go to bed, there’s plenty of room up here. Or there will be when I move all this crap.”

But Baby just watched him, passively. Ron wasn’t sure what the hell to say to the kid. Talking about his circus of a trial and his wrongful conviction didn’t seem appropriate under the circumstances.

Then Baby sighed and stood. He began to take off his clothes.

“Hey, hold on there, kid,” said Ron. “That’s not necessary. Really, it isn’t.”

But Baby just ignored Ron. He took off his shirt and pulled his undershirt over his head and dropped them on the floor. Then he stepped out of his workpants and shorts. He was extremely thin, but still beautifully formed, with a long, smooth torso and long arms and legs. His golden skin was marred only by bruises along his ribs and across his ass. And by some angry-looking red marks on his back.

Ron reached out and touched the red circles gently. They looked like burns. “What’s this? What did they do to you?”

Baby blinked. “Cigarettes.”

Ron recoiled. “They burned you with... with cigarettes?”

Baby blinked again. “So what? I can’t feel it anyway.” Then he lay down on the bottom bunk and buried his face in Ron’s pillow.

Ron stood for a long time. He didn’t know what to think anymore. He already despised the bikers, but this was beyond the pale. And the way the kid was just accepting it. He’d obviously fought back at first. Tried to run away. But it had been useless. There was nowhere to run. There was no escape. Baby was in two prisons – Stanton Correctional and the one that the low-riders had made in his own mind – and he was broken in both of them.

“I’m sorry, kid, but I....” But Ron noticed that Baby was asleep. His head was slightly turned on the pillow and his face looked peaceful. In another time and place he would have made a picture of perfect male beauty – if only you subtracted the bruises and those burns. If only you subtracted all the horror that had brought him to this place, to this moment.

Ron pulled out another blanket and covered Baby with it. Then he undressed and climbed up onto the top bunk and tried to sleep himself. But it was a restless, troubled sleep.

In the morning Red Wolf appeared at the door of Ron’s cell. Ron opened it, pulling on his workpants at the same time.

“Greetings there, Mister R.! How’d it go?” asked Red Wolf. “Any trouble?”

Ron shook his head. “No, Mr. Hansen. No trouble at all.”

Baby got dressed quietly while Red Wolf waited outside to take him back to the low-riders’ tip. Ron watched him, desperate to say something that would let the kid know that Ron gave a damn. That maybe he could do something. Maybe. Sometime in the future. Something. Ron felt like a fool just standing there, letting the biker take this kid back to a living hell.

Baby looked at Ron one last time. “Thanks for the cookies,” he said and turned away.

“Brian! Wait!” Ron said.

The kid turned back and stared at Ron. For the first time there was real life in his green eyes. “What did you call me?”

Ron stepped back. “Brian, I... I want to help you. I mean it.”

“How the fuck do you know my name?” the kid demanded. “How do you know who I am? Tell me!”

“I... I mean....” Ron stuttered. 

“Fuck YOU! FUCK YOU!” Brian screamed, striking out at Ron with his fists with surprising strength and knocking the man back against the bunk.

But then Red Wolf was there, grabbing the kid, slapping him solidly, and dragging him out of the cell. Brian kept screaming until Red Wolf knocked him silly and then shook him like a tall, skinny doll. Shook him until he was finally quiet. And defeated.

“Sorry about that, Mister R.,” said Red Wolf. “She’s overdue for her morning hit. Bitches get a little keyed up when they need more shit. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of things.”

“No, it’s all right,” said Ron. “There was no harm done. Really. Please don’t hurt him.”

“We’ll take care of it,” repeated Red Wolf. “Bitch won’t do THAT again, believe me. See you around, Mister R.”

And that was the last that Ron saw of Brian for quite a while.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to 1978 and back up to the third tier.

Chapter 19

 

January 1978

 

Punitive lockdown finally came to an end on Sunday morning when Warden Horvath allowed the inmates out to go to services. Catholic Mass was held in the Chapel at 9:00 a.m., then the non-denominational Protestant service at 10:30, and most of the men attended both just to give thanks for being out of their fucking cells for something other than work.

After lunch the Rec Room and the tiers were packed with lounging men. It was too cold to spend any time out in the Yard, but everyone wanted to stretch their legs and catch up on the latest gossip. 

And one of the major topics of conversation was Kinney. No one had seen him back in his cell since the C.O.’s took him away Wednesday morning. There was some speculation that he was in the Hole, while others maintained that he was in the Hospital. But one of the few people who knew the truth, Emmett Honeycutt, was keeping his mouth shut. As a drag queen, Emmy understood the value of image, and Brian’s image could only be enhanced by the mystery surrounding the incident with the new fish.

Around 3:00 Michelle, who was leaning up next to Emmy’s door, smoking a cigarette, saw them.

“Shit! Em! Barbie! Come quick!”

The other two queens came to the door to see what Michelle was yelling about. And Emmy grinned broadly. “Well, well, well! The Conquering Hero returns! And he isn’t alone.”

Michelle glared at Emmy. “What’s Brian doing with that kid? What’s going on?”

“You’ll see, dolly. You’ll see!”

Brian and Justin were coming up the stairway to the third tier. Justin was moving slowly – he had only gotten out of bed the day before – and Brian had his arm around the boy protectively.

“Hi, boys!” called Emmy. “Long time no see!” Which was not exactly accurate, since Emmy had been seeing both of them every night during her shift at the Hospital.

“Hey, Em. Barbie. You, too, Michelle,” said Brian.

“Bri – are you okay? I’ve been so worried!” said Michelle, purposely not looking at the kid.

“I’m just fine, Michelle,” said Brian. “And Justin is feeling a lot better, too.”

“You’re looking good, Sunshine!” exclaimed Emmy. “Doesn’t Sunshine look good, ladies?”

“Oh, yes!” agreed Barbie. But Michelle only mumbled something.

“Thanks, Em. I feel pretty good.” Justin glanced up at Brian. “I mean, I do now.”

“Let’s get back to our place,” Brian said, nudging the kid. “We’ll see you at chow, Em.”

“Sure thing, Baby!” Emmy said. So far, so good, she thought.

Andy was hanging out in front of Beemer’s cell – now his cell, as well – talking to Al, the guy in between theirs and Andy and Brian’s old home. Al, a pickpocket, was hooked up with Wes, a chubby little car thief.

“Holy shit, Andy! Look what’s coming down the tier!” said Al.

And Andy looked. Brian and Justin were making a slow and extremely noisy progress. Every guy who saw them had a million questions to ask and a thousand comments to make, and every guy also wanted to get a good long look at the new fish who had been at the center of all the commotion. 

Brian stopped at his cell and opened it. Then he headed directly for Andy. Andy backed up, remembering how Brian had threatened him the last time he saw him.

“Get the kid’s stuff, Andy,” said Brian shortly. “And hurry up. We haven’t got all day to stand around here.”

“Sure, Bri,” said Andy. Beemer, who was over in the Rec Room, had gathered the kid’s few belongings into his small duffle bag. Justin hadn’t even had time to fully unpack before he was attacked. Andy grabbed the bag and shoved it at Brian. “Everything’s in here, Bri. Nice and neat.”

Brian handed the bag to Justin. “Here, kid. When we get home make sure that everything is in there. Because if anything is missing....”

“Nothing is missing, Bri! I fucking swear!” said Andy. He couldn’t get the furious expression on Brian’s face as he was slamming him up against the bunk out of his mind. Andy was beginning to think that Brian was more than a little psycho.

“Oh, and I want your key.”

Andy had forgotten about the key. “Sure, sure!” He ducked inside to get the key to the other cell.

Brian glanced over and saw Al and his punk, Wes, watching the exchange between Brian and Andy curiously. He also noticed that Al was checking out Justin with undisguised interest. Al was a notoriously macho jocker who always kept his punk on a very short leash.

“What the fuck are YOU looking at?” Brian barked at Al.

Al was startled. Brian had never spoken to him so sharply. He’d never heard Brian speak to anyone sharply and he’d lived in the next cell to Brian, and before that Brian and Ron, for three years.

“Um, nothing, Kinney,” answered Al. “Nothing at all.”

“Then quit gawking. This ain’t no fucking museum!” said Brian, mimicking Al’s usual macho demeanor. 

“I didn’t mean nothing,” Al muttered. And he withdrew into the cell. 

But Wes, his punk, grinned at Justin. “Hey, I’m Wesley.”

“I’m Justin,” the kid replied.

“That’s enough girl talk,” Brian snapped. “Andy! Where the fuck is that key?”

Andy came out and handed it over. “I couldn’t find it for a minute. Sorry, Bri.”

Brian snatched the key away and turned away without acknowledgment. He gave the key to Justin. “Don’t lose this, kid, or I’ll have to kick your ass!” Brian said loudly.

“Yes, sir!” said Justin, brightly. Brian had told him always to call him ‘sir’ when they were on the tier or in the Chow Hall.

Justin walked into the cell. His new home. THEIR new home! He set his little duffle bag down on the floor next to the bunk.

Brian came in behind him and closed the door. “Well, here we are, kid.” Brian prayed that he was doing the right thing. And he thought about the first time he had ever set foot in this same cell, 9 years before. The world had changed 180 degrees for him since then.

“What now, Brian?” Justin asked. He sat down on the lower bunk.

“What now?” repeated Brian. “Now we just live – and hope for the best.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cellmates.

Chapter 20

 

“What are you doing over there?” said Brian. 

“I’m sorting your clothes to do the laundry, what else?” Justin was shaking out a tangle of dirty khaki workpants, shirts, socks, and underwear. “Brian, your shorts and tee shirts are kind of... ratty.”

“Justin, put that stuff down. I don’t want you doing my laundry.” Brian felt ill at ease thinking about someone handling his meager clothing.

“Emmy says that doing laundry is a punk’s job. And cleaning up the cell. And making coffee for your old man. And picking up the mail. And....”

Brian rubbed his forehead. “Listen, kid, I know intimately what a punk’s job is. But I don’t want you thinking that you have to do all that crap for me. I’m perfectly capable of doing it for myself.”

“Then why is this pile sitting here in the corner, Brian?” said Justin. “You don’t have any clean clothes on the shelf. And you’ve been wearing those same clothes since... since you come and stayed at the Hospital with me.”

“I just haven’t had much time to think about that stuff. I’ve been kind of busy.”

“Which is why it’s my job to do it,” Justin insisted. “You said that we have to make it look like we’re really hooked up. That I have to call you ‘sir’ and not talk to any of the other jockers and all the things that a real punk would do. And taking care of you is part of the deal. Emmy told me.”

“Emmy should keep his big mouth shut,” said Brian. “He thinks he’s playing matchmaker here and he’s way too into that role.”

“I don’t mind doing it, Brian,” said Justin, quietly. “I want to do it. Please let me.”

Brian lay down on the lower bunk. He was definitely getting another headache. And he was also very aware that he was going to be spending a lot of time in this small space with Justin. With Justin sleeping in the bunk overhead. Bustling around the cell, doing little chores. The laundry. Washing the cups. Making the beds. Eating with Brian. Showering with Brian. Probably spending all day in the Library with Brian, especially after Justin began taking his classes.

And the thought of all of that close proximity was making Brian extremely horny. He couldn’t help it. It was one thing when Justin had been lying in the hospital bed and Brian had been sitting with him all day, or even climbing up on the bed next to him and sleeping there all night with his arms around the boy. There had been something so innocent and pure about Justin, something the fucking low-riders had damaged forever, that brought out Brian’s protective instincts.

But now Justin was out of his sick bed. He was doing well and even seemed cheerful. Happy to be out of the Hospital and back on the tier. And now Brian wasn’t sure that he was going to able to keep from jumping on the kid before the evening was over. So how the fuck were they going to be cellies?

And now he was humming. Sorting Brian’s dirty clothes and humming.

“Emmy said that she’d go with me down to the laundry room tomorrow. She and Barbie are going to do their clothes, too.”

“That’s good. I don’t want you down there by yourself.” Brian sat up. “I’m serious, kid. I don’t want you going anywhere beyond the tier unless I’m with you. Or maybe Emmy or one of the other queens. One of them is always hanging around, so if you need to leave the tier, ask one of them to go with you.”

Justin turned from the laundry and looked at Brian dejectedly. “I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you before, Brian. I... I wasn’t thinking. I... was so stupid... and then... then....” He stopped. Justin tried to halt the tears, but he couldn’t. 

Brian was there in a second. Holding on to him. And then Justin was clinging to him. 

Brian sat Justin down next to him on the lower bunk. “It’s okay to cry in here, kid. Even I do it. But only in here. And only when you’re alone.”

Justin sniffed. “I know. Never let them see you cry.”

Brian nodded. “Emotion is weakness and there’s always someone waiting to take advantage of your weakness. That’s why I will have to act like a hard-ass when we’re out on the tier, or in the Rec Room, or at chow. They’ll be waiting to see if I show any weakness. Waiting for me to betray myself as nothing but a punk. And I can’t do that, Justin. Do you understand why?”

“Yes,” Justin answered. “Because that’s what’s keeping us alive.”

“Exactly,” Brian said. “You may think I’m exaggerating, but I’m not. This Quad, this prison, has been my home for almost a decade, but I can never let down my guard, even now. I can’t and still protect myself. Or protect you.”

Justin held up his head and wiped his eyes. “That makes me feel like... like something less than a man. That I’ll never really be a man while I’m in here.”

Brian understood that feeling all too well. “You will be, Justin. But you need to keep that between us. Just us. Our hooking up isn’t about anyone else, not even Emmy or any of the other girls. You can confide in them about certain things, but never give away what you’re really feeling. Never let anyone know that – or they might use it against you someday.”

“Anyone but you, Brian.”

Brian took a deep breath. “Not even me, kid. Save something for yourself. Always. It may be the only thing you have that’s truly yours. The only thing they can’t take away from you.” 

Brian didn’t even realize that he was touching Justin’s face. That he was stroking it with his fingers. It seemed so natural to do it. 

And Justin wanted Brian to touch him. The boy’s greatest fear was that Brian would be disgusted by him. Disgusted at what had been done to him. That Brian would look at Justin and see someone who had been ruined. Someone who had been used horribly and would never get rid of that taint.

“What’s this, Brian?” Justin said. He held Brian’s right hand and opened it, running his thumb down the man’s middle finger.

“It’s a prison tattoo,” said Brian. Usually when someone noticed his tattoo Brian hid his finger away. It was something he never talked about. But now he wanted to talk about it.

“You mean, someone made it in here?” Justin was surprised.

“Yeah, most of the men who have tattoos got them in the joint. For some gangs it’s a requirement. A badge of honor.” Brian looked at the markings on his finger. “For others it’s a brand. A mark that you no longer belong to yourself.”

“Let me see it,” said Justin. It wasn’t a request, but a statement. The tattoo was a word crudely inked on the inside of Brian’s finger. “‘Resist.’ What does it mean?”

“I think they meant it as a joke, kid. Because that’s what I was always doing – resisting them. If not physically, then in my head. And they knew it. That’s why they put that word on me. Why they put it on that particular finger. As a big ‘fuck you.’ But the joke was on them in the end. Because I DID resist. I DID get away.” Brian smiled bitterly. “At least I got away from them, if not from Stanton.”

Justin swallowed. “Got away from who, Brian?”

“The low-riders, of course,” Brian answered, as the boy trembled. “When they had me. Just like they had you, Justin. Except they had me for months. Had me and used me. Used me until there was nothing left to be had. Until I resisted them in the most final, irrevocable way I knew how.”

Justin felt himself holding his breath. “What... what way was that, Brian? How did you resist, finally?”

Brian blinked. Justin could see the golden flecks all through the dark green of his eyes.

“I killed myself, that’s what.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The new jocker and his punk go to chow.

Chapter 21

 

“Brian....” Justin began softly after sitting awhile and trying to understand the man’s words. What did he mean that he killed himself? Was that some kind of prison slang? Or... did Brian mean it literally? The boy shivered.

“Forget it, kid. I’ve already said too much.” Brian stood and walked to the cell door, looking out at the tier.

Justin saw how he was shutting himself off again. The boy had seen it happen a few times already when they were talking in the Hospital. Once had been when Justin asked about Brian’s older cellmate, Ron. Brian’s face had closed right up, like an iron door clanging down. And then Justin had innocently asked something about Brian’s family and the same thing had happened again. And now this. But Brian’s face was completely turned away, as if it was much more difficult for him to hide this pain away.

“It’s almost time for 4:00 head count and then down to the Chow Hall,” said Brian, finally turning around. “Are you ready for that, Justin?”

Justin hesitated. “I think so. I guess I have to be ready. I have to eat, after all.”

Brian laughed. “Yes, I’ve seen you eat – once your appetite came back!” But then he got serious again. “There will be a lot of people down in the Chow Hall and I don’t want them to shake you. Some of them might be asking a lot of questions. Nosy fucking questions that are none of their business, but they’ll ask anyway. Do you know what to say?”

Justin gulped. “That I don’t remember anything that happened to me that... that night.” Justin rubbed his eyes. “It’s true. I... I don’t really remember anything.”

Brian knew the kid was lying. He’d been having nightmares in the Hospital. Nightmares that left him shaking and crying for hours afterwards about the ‘men from Hell.’ Those nightmares were something Brian understood all too well. He’d had them for years. Sometimes they came back, unexpectedly, and for days he was a nervous wreck. Even after all these years.

“If you see anything or anyone who freaks you out, just hold on to me. That’s what I’m here for. To protect you. That’s why we’re hooked up, right?”

Justin nodded. “Right. That’s why we’re hooked up.”

Neither of them said what they both were thinking. That the low-riders would be in the Chow Hall. And they would be there every day and at every meal. The men who raped Justin were a fact of life. And obstacle to be faced, again and again. A trial to be endured daily. 

Brian prayed that the kid really couldn’t recall any of them individually. That, thought Brian, was too much to take. Having to look at the faces of the men who had violated you, humiliated you, beaten you down into something less than human. And to see them so unconcerned. And completely unpunished.

Brian had lived through that and it was soul-killing. But he HAD lived through it. And so would Justin.

After head count they got ready to go down to dinner. Justin washed his face and hands and then washed them again, compulsively. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Like he had an obsession with being clean. Maybe he was just trying to wash off the stink of prison. Or maybe he was trying to rid his otherwise untouched body of the feel of the low-riders. 

Brian went to the sink and washed up next to him. Then he took the rough towel and gently dried the boy’s face and hands. “That’s enough,” Brian said. “Let’s go.”

The third tier was the last to go down. The men lined up outside their cells while they waited. Justin was wringing his hands, nervously, while Brian kept a close eye on who was observing them. Which seemed to be just about everyone. They were all curious about what had happened to the kid that night. And about where Brian had been in the interim. Well, let them guess, thought Brian. Don’t show all your cards at once, Ron had taught him. 

The line began to move and Brian put his hand on Justin’s shoulder, steadying him.

“Hey, looks like chicken tonight!” exclaimed Wes as they entered the Chow Hall. Wes and his jocker, Al, were right behind Brian and Justin. “And chocolate pudding!” Most of Wesley’s conversations centered on his stomach.

Justin turned around. Wes was another punk, so it was safe to talk to him. “I love chocolate pudding, too.”

Al snorted. “Fucking kids and their food, right Kinney?” he said to Brian. “This fucking punk will break me at the canteen. Bags of chips and candy bars and gum and soda pop! No wonder you’re so fat, you little bastard!” Al gave Wes a shove.

But Wesley just grinned. Unlike some daddies, who were stingy with the treats, Al was generous with his canteen allowance and let Wes charge up as much as he wanted. Wes wasn’t all that crazy about the sexual aspect of their relationship, but he understood that it could be a lot worse. He and Al usually had sex about twice a week and Al never lent Wes out to his pals. In fact, Al was pretty possessive about his kid, which was to Wesley’s advantage. Sometimes Wes actually thought that Al kind of loved him. Of course, he’d never say anything as faggy as that, but usually Al stroked his hair or petted him while he was fucking him. Once he even kissed Wes, although they were both sort of embarrassed by it afterwards.

But Wes could see that Brian was a lot more touchy than most jockers. He always had his hands on this new kid, Justin. Wes liked that. Of course, Brian was like a punk himself. Or at least he used to be, so maybe that was different. 

Brian handed Justin a tray and took one for himself. Then he put the plates of food on their trays as the service guys dished them up.

“Hey, Roy,” said Brian to one of the food men.

“Here, Kinney.” Roy shoved a container of chocolate pudding onto Brian’s tray. “And one for the kid.”

Justin smiled and put the pudding on his tray. 

Brian looked at Justin’s face. “Give him another one, too, Roy.”

The food service guy frowned. “One dessert, Kinney. That’s the rule.”

Brian narrowed his eyes at Roy. “Oh, is that so? It seems that I’m doing some paperwork for an appeal on your conviction, Roy. It would be a fucking shame if I lost those papers and had to start all over again, wouldn’t it?”

Roy stared at Brian. The guy was serious! “Yeah, that would be fucked.”

“So from now on the kid gets TWO desserts. Every night. TWO. You understand?” said Brian.

Roy nodded. “Okay, Kinney. Sure. Whatever you say. Just don’t lose those papers or I’m back to square one!” He pushed a second container of pudding at the blond punk. Christ, what these guys wouldn’t do to keep their bitches satisfied!

“Just don’t forget,” Brian added. “Come on, kid. Let’s sit with Emmy.” And they took their trays and moved on.

“Hey, Roy! I want two desserts for my kid, too!” said Al.

“Fuck you!” Roy returned. Now he had a headache. “Move along, Al. You’re holding up the fucking line!”


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie Night in the Quad.

Chapter 22

 

While the men were finishing their dinner in the Chow Hall, the lieutenant came in and called for their attention.

“Because everyone was in lockdown on Friday night....” There were some scattered boos, but the lieutenant held up his hands. “If I may finish, gentlemen? In other words – shut the hell up while I’m talking!”

“I love Lt. Clayton to pieces,” said Emmy. “He has such a way with words!”

“Yeah, and your mouth has a way with his dick,” sniped Michelle.

“I have many gentleman callers and some of them happen to be C.O.’s,” Em answered. “So hush YOUR little mouth, Michelle, before I shove something nasty into it!”

“Because you guys missed Movie Night on Friday, we will be showing the film tonight instead,” the lieutenant continued. “It will be here, in the Chow Hall, as usual, at 8:00 sharp. And because of the movie, evening head count and lockdown will be at 11:00. No horseplay or other crap during the movie, either. The warden is giving you this privilege, so don’t abuse it. And I mean it!”

“Movie night? What’s that?” asked Justin. He was finishing his second container of chocolate pudding.

“They show some ancient flick and pass out popcorn,” Brian explained. “It’s the social highlight of the week around here.”

Emmy stood up. “Come on, ladies. We need to get ourselves dolled up before the feature!”

“Shit!” cried Michelle, pushing back her chair. “I didn’t do my hair! They should have told us about this earlier.”

The queens exited the Chow Hall, all chattering about the night’s big event.

“What was that all about, Brian?” said Justin.

“Like I said, Movie Night is about the only social event going on in here. Every Friday night the queens get themselves all spiffed up and spend more time parading up and down so everyone can see them in their outfits than they do watching the film. It’s like a ritual.” Brian shrugged. “They won’t have a lot of time to get themselves primped for tonight. That’s why Michelle was upset. Her old man, Dave, is due to get out soon and I think she’s on the prowl for a new jocker to take his place, so she wants to look her best.”

Justin looked down at his tray. “That seems so... cold. The guy isn’t even gone yet. Doesn’t she care about him?”

“I don’t know,” said Brian. “Not much, I guess. People get hooked up for different reasons. Most of them don’t have a lot to do with caring about someone. Mostly it’s for survival. Or to make life easier. Or because guys get lonely. It takes all kinds, kid.”

Brian picked up his tray and took it back to the rack, with Justin following along behind. A number of men greeted Brian, asking him about their cases or inquiring when the Law Library would open up again.

“Things should be back to normal tomorrow, so I’ll be there. Stop by in the afternoon and we’ll talk,” Brian told one of the men.

“This the new kid?” the guy asked. He looked Justin up and down. The way he looked at him gave Justin a panicky sensation and he shrank back against Brian.

“Yeah,” said Brian shortly. “Hands off.”

The man stepped back. “Hey, Kinney, I was only askin’! No harm done, right?”

“Sure,” answered Brian. “No fucking harm done. Not much.”

He took Justin by the elbow and piloted him through the crowd and out the door of the Chow Hall.

A small knot of low-riders were hanging out near the door, trying to decide what to do. They usually skipped Movie Night. It wasn’t exactly their thing. But they took note of the new fish, who was now solidly in Kinney’s possession. They weren’t certain how to react to this new turn of events. 

“He’s the best fish to come into the Quad in a long time,” griped Rowdy. “Are we gonna let some punk take him over? After we busted the kid and everything?”

“Yeah! It don’t seem right,” chimed in Elvis.

Hoss shook his head. “But all the jockers like Bri Baby. They all owe him big time for his legal aid shit, so they’re cutting him a lot of fucking slack. And the way he’s struttin’ around, like he thinks he’s a real man or something.”

“We could take over the kid and he couldn’t do nothin’ about it, I bet!” urged Elvis.

“We could,” Hoss agreed. “But you want that punk in YOUR cell? You want him with access to your dick while you’re asleep? We don’t got the resources to keep him doped up all day AND all night, especially with Horvath breathing down our necks.” 

Hoss glared at Brian, but the other man simply stared right through him and led the kid back towards the tier. Hoss knew that Bri Baby had been a low-rider punk a long, long time ago. That was ancient history that everyone knew. But for as long as Hoss had been in Stanton – two years – Kinney had pretty much ignored the bikers and they had ignored him. When they came to him for legal services he was cool and business-like, doing the minimum work necessary, but never any more than that. But there had never been a conflict between them – until this kid arrived. And it wasn’t over, thought Hoss. Not by a longshot.

A little before 8:00 Brian and Justin walked back into the Chow Hall. The tables had been pushed back and the chairs set up in rows. The queens were already promenading around the room, displaying their showiest garments. The black queens, led by a tall, striking inmate named Loretta (aka Antoine), were even more flamboyant than Emmy and his crew, thought Justin, as he watched the two groups circle each other. Loretta was wearing a pair of red platform shoes that made her look about 7 feet tall.

“I told you, kid,” Brian whispered as they found seat near the front. “The movie is secondary to all the posturing.”

“Where do they get the clothes?” Justin asked.

“They buy them. Emmy and Michelle get tons of catalogues and Michelle’s mother sends away for the stuff and then forwards it to them. The poor woman is a waitress and she must spend every cent she makes buying that shit for her son. And the others all have someone on the outside who gets them what they need. You’ve been in Emmy’s cell – it’s like a fucking sorority house in there!”

Justin thought about Brian’s worn underwear and socks. And his only sweater had been ruined, too. He heard Emmy apologize to Brian for not being able to save it. “Brian, you need some new clothes. If they can get that stuff, why can’t you?”

“Sure,” Brian snorted. “I’ll call my mom tomorrow and tell her to run down to the mall and get me a new wardrobe! When fucking hell freezes over!” 

One of the C.O.’s ordered everybody to take their seats. The queens abandoned their parade reluctantly and found chairs in the back, where they could chat without getting anyone too pissed off at them. Then the lights went down and the film began.

As Brian had predicted, it was an old movie, in black and white. “This is a pretty good one,” said Brian, leaning into Justin’s ear. “It’s funny. ‘To Be or Not To Be’ with Jack Benny.” The man who provided the films to Stanton had a large collection, but over the years Brian had seen all of his films a couple times over.

“You weren’t kidding when you said these movies were old, Brian! This is, what? World War II?” Justin said in amazement. 

A guy in the row in front of them turned and snarled, “Shut up, punk!”

“Sorry, kid,” Brian whispered. “No ‘Star Wars’ in here. I think the old man who shows the flicks stopped going to the movies around 1960, so that’s what we get. This was actually one of Ron’s favorites. He liked the Marx Brothers, too. We’ll probably get them next week.” 

They watched the film and Justin found himself laughing and enjoying it more than he had expected to. He started to forget, at least a little, where he was and what had happened to him. Justin had almost forgotten what it was like to do something as normal as sit in the dark and watch a movie. All of the things that Justin used to take for granted seemed far away at Stanton. 

And he heard Brian laughing at the movie, too. He had not heard Brian laugh like that before. Not a cynical, hardened laugh, but something almost innocent.

Justin reached over in the dark and touched Brian’s hand, tentatively. And Brian’s hand closed around Justin’s, their fingers interlacing. Maybe Brian only wants to protect me, thought Justin. Maybe he only feels sorry for me. Because I’m... spoiled. Maybe that’s all it is. The boy held tighter to Brian’s hand. But that isn’t all it is for me. The face of God. That’s what I saw and that’s what I still see when I look at him.

And that was enough. At least for that short, sweet moment.


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the movie.

Chapter 23

 

After the movie ended the men milled around for a while, finishing up the popcorn and blowing off some steam. Many of them were still a little stir crazy from being in lockdown for four days. There had been one mild confrontation between Barbie and one of the black queens over a scarf that Barbie dropped and the other queen stepped on, but Emmy and Loretta stopped it before it came to blows.

Brian and Justin sat for a while in their seats. The kid was still hanging on to Brian’s hand and Brian didn’t want to let go just yet. But they would have to let go. It wouldn’t do to walk up to the tier holding hands. That’s something a jocker would never do.

Brian tried to imagine Ron ever holding his hand. That was laughable! No, it was like he had explained to the kid – sex in prison wasn’t about love or even affection. It was about getting your rocks off. Period. There was nothing more to it.

Except... it was obviously something more to the kid. Since sex wasn’t an option here. Especially not with what had happened to him in that room. Brian shuddered and found himself gripping the kid’s hand even tighter. And the kid looked up at him and smiled.

That was the thing, thought Brian. I’m already in over my head here and I’m not even certain how it happened. The kid is depending on me, not just for protection, but emotionally, too. Yes, emotionally. Too much emotion made Brian very nervous. It was so easy to let your feelings get out of control. 

Suck it up, kid, and don’t ever let them see you cry. You’re a man, no matter what anyone else says, so act like one. Those were Ron’s words. That was Ron’s training. And his admonitions had helped Brian survive all these years. No, they had not healed him or fixed him, that was impossible. But they had taught Brian how to build a wall around himself that could never be breached. Except....

Except this kid had no walls. No defenses. He was like a fucking open book. And anyone could read what he was thinking, what he was feeling on his beautiful face. And that scared the hell out of Brian.

“Let’s go back up. I’m getting tired,” said Brian, standing up. The kid still had hold of his hand. “In the morning I’m going to take you over to Administration and find out about those classes.”

“Are they like real college classes? With a professor and everything?”

“Sort of,” answered Brian. “There are classrooms in the Administration Building and profs come in from Pittsburgh or the local community college and teach things like Basic Writing. Most of the guys in here don’t have a lot of formal education.”

Justin made a slight face. “I was in an Honors Stream in my high school. And I’d been accepted at the Pittsburgh Institute of Fine Art. I guess there isn’t anything I could take that would help me keep up with my studies.”

“Not so fast, kid,” Brian said. “There are also correspondence classes. After I’d taken just about everything in here that I could take, I took those. Ron was big on me getting in as many classes as possible. I took some Lit classes and History and Political Science and Philosophy with profs from Penn and Carnegie Mellon. I never met the guys, but they wrote to me and gave me assignments and graded my essays. And I got college credit for it. You could do that, too. That’s why we need to talk to the woman who’s in charge of the educational programs. This would be the beginning of the new semester, just like in a real school, so you want to get started right away.”

“Thanks, Brian,” Justin said, grinning. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Brian squirmed a bit. “Oh, you’d get along fine.”

Justin’s face grew serious again. “I don’t think so, Brian.” 

And they both knew that was the truth. Without Brian’s intervention, Justin’s Fate would already be settled. Brian pictured the low-riders gathering around him like vultures. Pictured them with Justin in their tip. What they would do with him. What they would turn him into if they could. It was not a pleasant image. And for Brian it wasn’t just an image, but a memory that could never be erased.

The kid still wouldn’t let go of his hand, so Brian thought, fuck it! If I’m going to rewrite the rules of what it means to be a jocker, then I might as well go all the way. Let’s see if anyone challenges me.

Brian knew that there wasn’t a man in Stanton who didn’t think that he could somehow beat the system – if only he had a smart lawyer on his side. And the key to beating that system was the Prisoners’ Legal Defense. And without Brian there was no PLD. 

That was a point that Ron had made clear before he left Stanton. Since he’d no longer be around to protect Brian personally, he made certain that the threat of withholding the legal aid the men depended on would do the protecting for him. If anything happened to Brian, then the prisoners were fucked! Ron would cut them off completely. And it had worked – so far. 

Brian had been surprised at how well even a small threat had worked on Roy in the Chow Hall. Roy didn’t want his paperwork held up, so the kid got an extra dessert. Quid pro quo.

Brian and Justin walked through the Chow Hall and back up to the tier. Most of the men were also meandering back to their cells. It would be back to work tomorrow. Back to the grind. Emmy and Barbie were giggling and waving to their friends. Michelle and her old man, Dave, ducked into Michelle’s cell for a quickie before lockdown. Ron used to call Movie Night ‘Date Night’ because all the hooked up pairs usually fucked after the film. Just like on the outside, thought Brian. Fucking Date Night.

Back in the cell, Brian locked the door behind them. He always kept the door locked tight, but it was especially important now. You never knew who might wander in to make a grab for the kid, or even just to take a look at him. Locks were what kept them all inside Stanton, but locks also kept people out. People you didn’t want to corner you, alone, in your cell.

“Will the top bunk be a problem for you, kid?” Brian asked.

“No, not at all,” Justin replied. “I’m a little stiff, but I can get up and down fine.”

“Just don’t step on me in the middle of the night if you have to use the can, okay?”

“I’ll try not to.” Justin grinned at him. It was hard not to smile back at that open face.

Justin undressed and dropped his shirt and pants in one of the piles he’d sorted out on the floor. “Laundry tomorrow. Definitely.”

“Whatever you say, Mom,” Brian sighed. He’d been out of clean clothes for days.

“It’s a good thing I came along, Brian. You really do need someone to take care of you,” Justin asserted. He climbed up into the top bunk and pulled back the blanket.

“I take good care of myself,” Brian insisted. He stripped off his clothes and tossed them on top of the laundry pile. It would be nice not to have to do that kind of shit anymore. He thought about folding Ron’s clean shirts and workpants. He’d always been such a fussy bastard about the way his clothes were folded.

“But I can take better care of you,” the kid returned from the top bunk.

“Go to sleep.” 

Brian settled himself on the lower bunk. It seemed strange to be sleeping there. For nine years he’d been in the top bunk. That’s where the junior partner always slept. 

Of course, Brian had spent quite a bit of time in this lower bunk, but not much of it sleeping. No, once Ron figured out that his dick didn’t really care whether Brian was male or female, then Brian was there whenever Ron wanted him to be. And Brian didn’t mind. In fact, he was fucking grateful and not ashamed to prove just how grateful he really was to be out of the low-riders’ tip and in the hands of someone who didn’t knock him around or keep him doped up constantly.

But after a while it had been more than just gratitude on Brian’s part. Brian admired Ron. He more than admired him, he even loved him. Maybe not a romantic kind of love, the way he had felt about Glenn. But that had backfired on Brian in every way possible. That was the reason he was in this place to begin with. That goddamn Glenn. Fucking love. Hero worship. Not being able to see what the truth is because you’re so blinded by one person. Brian had promised himself that would never happen to him again. Always hold something back, Kinney. Never give yourself away. Never.

Brian drifted off to the sound of the C.O.’s walking up the tier, locking down for the night. The echo of the doors. Of the locks engaging. The lullaby of Stanton Correctional.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darkness.

Chapter 24

 

A long hallway. Into a dark room.

The Men from Hell.

That’s where they are waiting.

“We’re here to claim you. We don’t give a fuck who you are. We don’t want to hear you cry or beg. You’ll do what we say. Or else you’ll die.”

No light. No hope. Nothing but pain.

Stop! Please, stop!

A flash, like lightning.

And Brian. Helpless. His head hanging down. Shivering.

Help!

“We can claim anyone. No one is safe. Nowhere is safe. Never even dream that you can get away. Or we’ll do to you what we did to him.”

No!

NO!

Brian!

BRIAN!

“Justin! Wake up! It’s all right!”

Justin opened his eyes. That’s the way the dream always ended. He opened his eyes and saw the face of God.

“Brian....” He tried to say more, but he never could. It always ended in tears.

“What’s the problem in there? Kinney?” The C.O. rattled the door.

“Nothing!” said Brian. “The kid had a nightmare.”

The C.O. rapped on the door with his stick. “Tell him to shut the fuck up!”

“Jesus, Foster, give the kid a break!” Brian said angrily. “He just got out of the Hospital.”

The C.O. snorted. “If he wakes the tier again, I’m writing him up. No fucking excuses!”

“Bastard,” Brian muttered as the C.O. walked back up to his station.

Brian got out a cup and filled it with water. “Drink this, kid.”

Justin sat up in his bunk and took the cup. His hands were shaking violently. “Thanks.” He tried to drink a little, but the water kept spilling down the front of his tee shirt. 

“Bad, huh?” asked Brian, gently.

Justin nodded. “That was the worst one yet. They gave me a pill every night in the Hospital and I guess that helped me to sleep through those bad dreams.” He handed the cup back to Brian.

Brian didn’t say anything, but he thought about the way the kid had tossed and moaned in his sleep every night in the Hospital. Maybe the sedatives muffled the nightmares a little, but they didn’t chase them away. No, only time could do that. If even time could do it.

Brian sighed. “Climb down from there. Come on.” He held out his hands and helped the kid down from the top bunk. Brian pulled back the blanket on his own bed. “Get in.”

“But....”

“There’s enough room for two people,” said Brian. “Believe me – I know.” 

Justin laid down on the lower bunk and Brian nudged him over as he got in next to him. “No one can get you in here. They’d have to get past me first – and no one is going to get past me. No one. Do you believe that?”

Justin bit his lip. “Yes.”

“Okay, then,” said Brian. “There’s nothing I can do about what you’re dreaming. That’s inside your head, Justin. There’s nothing anyone can do about that. But it’s just a shadow of some memory. It isn’t real. THIS is real. Where we are right now. And no one can get you here. I promise.”

“I believe you.” It felt warm under the thin blanket. Warmer than Justin had felt in a long time. He snuggled down into the worn mattress, the old pillow.

But he was afraid to touch Brian. Because he knew that this was all about how Brian felt sorry for him. Felt empathy for him. Because something bad had happened to Brian a long time ago, when he first came to Stanton. That much Justin knew. The low-riders had done horrible things to him. Worse even than what had been done to Justin. 

Justin had asked Emmy about it one evening when they were sitting, just the two of them, in the Hospital. Brian, exhausted, had fallen asleep on one of the beds in the ward and Em had covered him up and left him there to get some rest.

“What was it, Em?” Justin said. “What did those bikers do to him? They aren’t the same men, are they? They can’t be.”

“No, Sunshine. Those guys were gone long before I ever came to Stanton. But they were like the bikers here now. Mean as snakes. Different men, but the same breed of cat. You know what I mean, honey?”

“I think so, Em,” Justin replied. Different, but the same. All low-riders.

“Now that was back before Warden Horvath came in and cleaned this joint up,” Em explained. “Different gangs ran this place then and they fought each other for power. The low-riders ran the drugs in. And they also controlled prostitution. Those two things.”

Justin had been puzzled. “Prostitution? But Em, how could they do that? Did they really bring women in here? Right into the prison?”

Emmy had laughed at Justin’s naivete. “No, sweetheart. Not women. Punks. That’s what the low-riders sold in those days. They took the prettiest boys and shot them full of smack and then sold their asses to every creep in Stanton who could afford the price of a pack of cigarettes.” Em must have seen the look of horror on Justin’s face. His voice softened. “That’s what the low-riders did in those days, Sunshine. Bri Baby must have been such a pretty boy when he was 20 years old, because he’s still so pretty now. And that’s when they had him.”

Justin couldn’t get that thought out of his mind. Brian being hurt by the low-riders. Hurt the way Justin had been hurt. Except not just once, but again and again. That had become part of Justin’s nightmare. The Men from Hell. What they had done to Justin, but also what they had done to Brian, too. As if they were joined by this common wound.

But now – Brian was so strong now! And not afraid of anything! He had stared down the bikers in the Chow Hall. He had barked at the big guy in the cell next door. He had challenged them all. He was nobody’s punk anymore. And nobody’s whore. 

Justin sniffed and moved his arm slightly. It was a little crowded in the bunk, but it was also safe. Brian’s tee shirt smelled like sweat, but it was not a nasty smell. It was raw, like a man should smell. Justin leaned his face against the side of Brian’s chest, burying his nose in that comforting smell.

He could be brave, too. If Brian had learned how to be strong, then so could he. Whenever one of the doctors had come to examine him or when one of the orderlies tried to bathe him, Justin had shrunk away. He didn’t want them touching him. Not even Emmy. He let her prop him up on the bed or take his temperature, but he flinched when she held his arm too tightly or brushed against his chest. The fingers of those strangers felt like fire on his skin.

But Brian was safe. He had clung to Justin in that dark little room. Like something deep within the man told Justin that he understood his pain. Maybe that was it. That they were the same. One skin. And so Brian’s touch was welcome. Even needed. Yes, Justin needed it. He thought about holding on to Brian’s hand during the movie. Brian was sending strength into him through that hand. Justin could feel it. Feel the power bolstering him. Saving him.

Justin let his hand rest on Brian’s chest, very lightly. It was rising and falling as he slept. Justin moved a little closer and Brian’s arm wrapped around the boy as he groaned slightly and then was silent.

It was Brian between him and the outside world. Between him and the darkness that threatened to engulf him. But that was enough for now. Justin closed his eyes and the Men from Hell did not return that night.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An incident in the biker's tip.

Chapter 25

 

1969

 

“Hey, Rosenblum,” called one of the C.O.’s. Unlike some of the inmates, Ron tried to stay on friendly terms with the guards. They were a valuable source of information, not to mention the small ways they could make your life easier by not hassling you or by looking the other way when necessary.

“What’s happening, Galuski?” Ron was just coming back from the new Law Library.

“You been working with some of the bikers, haven’t you, Rosenblum?”

Ron frowned. “I work with anybody who asks me, Galuski. I admit that I have no particular love for the low-riders. I think they’re scum. But, yeah, I’ve been working with some of them.”

“Working with any of their punks?” the C.O. asked.

Ron shook his head. “No, just Cisco’s men. But I’ve seen their punks.” Ron thought of Baby, his beautiful back covered with cigarette burns. “Pitiful.” 

“You don’t know the half of it, man. South Wing’s in lockdown because one of their punks offed himself this afternoon.”

Ron felt his blood run cold. “What the fuck happened?”

“Don’t know,” said Galuski. “I don’t work South. But Corbett saw them carrying the kid out. Hung himself.”

Ron took a deep breath. “Whose cell was it?”

“Cisco’s,” Galuski replied.

Ron walked back down the tier. Cisco’s cell. Only one other person would be in that cell. Cisco’s punk. Baby. Brian.

By the time he’d unlocked his cell and closed the door behind him, Ron was sick to his stomach and sicker at heart. He hadn’t done a fucking thing to help that kid and now he was dead. Ron felt as responsible as the goddamn low-riders. They were all guilty – everyone in Stanton, from the warden on down – for letting this happen! And Ron knew that he could have tried harder. He could have tried to do more. Anything. But he’d let it slide. It was easier that way. Easier not to make waves. Ron cringed when he pictured the bruises on the boy’s thin body. On his beautiful golden skin.

Ron skipped dinner. He didn’t think he could face eating anything. Instead, he trudged back to his new office and buried himself in work.

Around 8:00 Ron was surprised to see Red Wolf at his door. His meeting with the Parole Board was coming up soon and the biker was getting nervous. But Ron was in no mood to speak to any of the low-rider gang.

“I’m busy!” Ron snapped. And he went back to his paperwork.

But Red Wolf didn’t leave. “Thought I’d come over and hang with you, Mister R.”

Ron put down his pen in exasperation. “I’m not here to socialize with you, Mr. Hansen. Especially after what happened today.”

Red Wolf made a face. “Oh, you know about that?”

“I may have heard something about it. Who was it, Lamar? Or don’t you give a shit?”

Red Wolf grimaced. “It was Cisco’s punk, Baby.”

Ron’s stomach turned. “Wonderful.”

“And Cisco’s pissed, let me tell ya. You don’t know what kinda voodoo something like that puts on a cell! It’s the worst bad vibes you can get, man!”

Ron glared at Red Wolf. “Poor Cisco. Nothing like suicide to put a dark cloud over your day, huh?”

But Ron’s irony was lost on the biker. “You got it, Mister R. And it woulda been even worse if the bitch had died!”

Ron glanced up at Red Wolf. “Baby’s alive?”

“Yeah. Cisco walked in and grabbed the bitch down before she croaked. Like I said, he’s really pissed!”

“But one of the C.O.’s said he saw them carrying the kid out.”

Red Wolf nodded. “Yeah, down to the Hospital. She could be in there for days. And she’s Cisco’s best earner, too,” the biker confided. “But you know that, Mister R. You’ve had a piece of her. Some sweet stuff, right?”

Ron stood up. “If you would excuse me, Mr. Hansen? I have an appointment.”

“Sure, Mister R.” the biker said genially. “See ya in church.”

Ron wasn’t sure why he headed for the Hospital Wing. Maybe to satisfy himself that the kid really was alive. Or maybe to assuage his guilt. But he found himself walking into the ward, looking for the doctor in charge.

“Yes, the boy is in here,” a frustrated Dr. Sherman told Ron. “But the damage done to him is more than just the suicide attempt. He was pulled down quickly before any real harm was done.” Ron winced at the picture in his head. “However, it’s obvious that the boy’s been severely abused. Beaten and even burned. And addicted. If I see another addict come into my ward I think I’m going to give up this job. What’s the point of putting these guys in prison if they can just continue their heroin habits inside? What’s the goddamn point?”

“That kid wasn’t an addict before he came here, doctor!” said Ron, his anger rising. “I know that for a fact. He was a college student. A smart kid. Then he comes in here and within months he’s a junkie whore. Do you think that’s right, doctor? Do you?”

“Of course not, Rosenblum! But what the hell am I supposed to do about it? When this boy leaves my ward he’ll go right back into the general population. In other words, they’ll send him back to the same cell that he tried to kill himself in. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.”

“He can’t, doctor!” Ron exclaimed. “There must be somewhere else he can be sent?”

The doctor looked tired. “I’ve already been given the word from the Administration, Rosenblum. No special treatment and a return to his tier once he’s clean and back on his feet. He’s detoxing now. The junk should be out of his system in a couple of days. Of course, he’ll just start shooting up again the minute I release him. I told you – it’s pointless!”

“Doctor, Brian isn’t shooting himself up! He’s being given the drugs by the guys who are beating and abusing him! He’s being drugged to keep him quiet and compliant!”

“And I’m supposed to do what, Rosenblum?” the doctor asked bluntly. “You tell me!”

“Can I see the kid? Please, doctor?” Ron asked.

“Why not?” said Dr. Sherman. “He’s over in that little annex off the main ward.”

Ron pushed open the door to the annex and saw the kid. He had a bandage on his neck and his hands were tied to the bed frame. That’s the way they ‘detoxed’ you in prison. They tied you down and let you sweat it out. Then they untied you and threw you back on the dung heap.

Ron pulled a folding chair next to the bed and sat down. The kid’s eyes were closed and his breath was ragged. His body looked in worse shape than the last time Ron had seen him, when he had lashed out at him in Ron’s cell and Red Wolf had dragged him away.

Ron saw the kid’s eyes flutter and he knew that he was awake.

“Brian?”

“Go away,” he whispered. “Leave me alone.”

“That was a dumb thing to do, kid,” said Ron. “You could have hurt yourself.”

Now the eyes were fully open. Green and gold, like a feral cat’s. “Hurt myself? I didn’t want to hurt myself. I wanted to kill myself! Why can’t you people just let me do it? Why do you all want to keep me alive just to fucking torture me?” 

“But while you’re alive there’s still hope, kid. Even in a place like this,” said Ron.

“You think?” he answered. “Then you’re fucked. What kind of hope are you talking about? Do you all have some kind of bet going on about how much longer I’ll last? Is that it?” The kid closed his eyes again. “The low-riders like bets like that. How many times they can hit you before you pass out. How many times they can fuck you before you completely collapse. All kinds of bets. But don’t bet on my life, mister. Don’t waste your money.”

Brian turned his head away. Ron sat there, watching him, until it was time to go back up for evening head count.

But Ron knew that this time he had to do something for the kid. He didn’t know what that would be yet, but he knew that it had to be soon.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visitors' Day at the Quad. Jennifer Taylor meets the mom of another inmate, Debbie Novotny.

Chapter 26

 

February 1978

 

Jennifer Taylor’s hands were trembling so badly she could barely hold the package she was going to give to her son, Justin. Who was in prison. This prison – Stanton Correctional.

She sat in the waiting area surrounded by other women, also waiting to see prisoners. Also holding packages to give them. But most of these women looked poor and many of them were minorities. They were cheaply dressed and haphazardly made up, nothing like Jennifer, in her stylish Evan Picone wool suit and fur-lined coat. These were not the women Jennifer lunched with at the Arcadian Country Club.

Some of these women stared at Jennifer curiously and a few of them with open hostility. She noticed only one other well-dressed person in the restless crowd – a man in his 40’s who stood close to the door, a briefcase at his feet and a brown paper bag in his arms.

“Don’t look so scared, honey.”

Jennifer glanced around. A chubby woman with garishly dyed red hair was sitting next to her. “I can’t help it. I AM scared.”

“First time?” The woman asked kindly. Jennifer nodded. “Just think how your boy must feel. How scared he must be,” she said. “You’re so young, honey. He must be pretty young, too.”

Jennifer thought that she might break down right then. “He’s only 19.”

“That’s rough,” said the woman. “Real rough. But that’s why you gotta be brave, hon. For your kid. He’s got enough to worry about without also worrying about you.”

“I... I can’t help it!” And Jennifer really began to cry.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Jennifer Taylor,” she replied, taking out a kleenex. “I drove all the way from Pittsburgh in all this snow. My husband refused to come with me. He’s still too angry at Justin. And that makes me angry at Craig! So very angry!”

“My name’s Debbie,” said the red-haired woman. “Debbie Novotny. And I’m from Pittsburgh, too.” Debbie patted Jennifer’s arm. “Your husband will come around. He’ll see that everyone makes mistakes. A young kid, especially. It happens.”

“But not Justin!” Jennifer sniffed. “He was always the perfect son! An Honor student. And now... this!”

Debbie sighed. “What’s he in for, hon?”

Jennifer shuddered at those words. “Drug possession. Marijuana.”

“That’s too bad. Especially when you know that all the kids do it, but yours was the one who got caught. It isn’t fair, but it’s reality.”

“I know!” cried Jennifer. “It isn’t fair!” She wiped her eyes on the kleenex. 

“Now, my Michael knew better,” Debbie confided. “At least I thought he did. But he did something stupid, too. A lot of guys do stupid stuff. And some of them end up in here.”

Jennifer blew her nose. “What did your son do?”

“He passed some bad checks,” Debbie replied. “And it wasn’t even his idea, either. Michael is a good person and an honest guy – basically. But his boyfriend was an accountant and he started dipping into his clients’ money. Then he had to cover it up and he got Michael involved. Of course, they both got caught. Now Ted is in the State Pen and Mikey is in here.”

Jennifer swallowed. “Your son is... is a homosexual? And you know about it? You accept it?”

Debbie smiled. “I’ve known Michael was gay since he was a kid. And I thought Ted was a really great guy and a good boyfriend – right up until the cops came to the door and took both of them away in handcuffs. That was a REAL kick in the teeth!”

Jennifer felt a pang in her heart. “Sometimes I think that Justin... I mean, I used to think that... that Justin....” But Jennifer couldn’t continue.

“You think your son is gay, too?” Debbie said gently. “If he is, it isn’t the end of the world, honey. Right now you have other things to deal with. Being gay isn’t the worst of them, believe me.”

Jennifer reached into her bag and took out some letters. “Justin writes to me. He said that he was in the prison hospital. That he was sick! I tried calling the warden, but they wouldn’t give me any information! They said he was out of the hospital and doing well. Do you know how that made me feel?”

“I understand, hon. You feel completely helpless. Welcome to the club.” Debbie was so sorry for this woman. Nothing in her privileged life had prepared her for this – her child in prison. Of course, thought Deb, who’s ever prepared for THAT?

“And then he wrote me some other things that worry me.” Jennifer opened one of the letters. “He talks constantly about his cellmate. He seems to idolize this man. This criminal! Why would they put an impressionable young boy in with this... this grown man?”

“That’s how it’s done, Jennifer,” Debbie said. She chewed at her lip. It sounded to her like this kid and his cellie were more than just friends. Well, Mikey was hooked up with a guy inside, too. If you were young and not a big bruiser, then hooking up was the best way to go, especially for a gay boy. But she wasn’t about to explain that to this lady. “Do you think that your son and his cellmate are having a... a relationship?” 

Jennifer recoiled. “I don’t know! But I’m so afraid! Justin sent me a list of things to buy for this man. Mainly clothes, like underwear and sweaters. And books – a long list of paperback books. All for this strange man!” Jennifer clutched Debbie’s arm. “What if this man is forcing Justin to get him these things? What if he’s threatening my son?”

“Some underwear and paperback books doesn’t sound like the usual request of a blackmailer, honey,” said Debbie, frankly. “It sounds like stuff that some poor guy who has no one on the outside might need. Maybe your kid feels sorry for his cellmate. Maybe this guy really IS his friend and Justin wants to do something nice for him. Some inmates have no families. Nobody to visit them or send them things. Me – I bring Mikey stuff every time I come here. But I also bring things for his friend, Emmett. His family is way down in Mississippi and they’re kind of poor, so they can’t really help him. So Em is just like another son to me.”

“But... what if....” Jennifer knew that she was going to start crying again.

“Honey, you’ll know how things are when you see your son. No one knows a kid like his mother. You’ll know if Justin’s afraid or if he’s being threatened. And if he is, then we’ll see what we can do about it.” Debbie pointed to the well-dressed man with the briefcase. “See that guy over there? He used to be a big lawyer, but he did some bad stuff and was an inmate here for years. Now he works for a group that does legal work for prisoners. He’s the man to talk to, Jennifer. If your son is being harassed by his cellie, Mr. Rosenblum can try to do something about it. That guy knows all the ins and outs of Stanton Correctional.”

“Does he come here every Visiting Day to meet with inmates?” Jennifer looked at the man with interest. He was tall, with dark wavy hair that was graying at the edges. His suit was custom-tailored and obviously expensive.

“No, hon,” Debbie laughed. “He’s not a lawyer anymore, so he can’t meet with the inmates formally. He’s here to see his boyfriend, who’s still inside. His boyfriend is another pal of my son, Mikey.”

Jennifer stared at Debbie. “My God! Is everyone in this prison gay?”

The door of the waiting room opened and all of the women stood and began lining up to go into the main part of Administration Building, where the Visiting Gallery was located.

“Well, sweetie, maybe they’re not gay when they go in,” Debbie shrugged. “But sometimes it’s a different story when they come out!”


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Visitors' Gallery.

Chapter 27

 

Jennifer sat down at one of the Visitors’ tables and her new friend, Debbie, sat down at the one next to it.

“I’m so nervous!” said Jennifer.

“Don’t be, honey,” Debbie replied. “Just think about seeing your kid.”

And then the far door opened and the men began filing into the room. Jennifer saw Justin immediately. His golden hair flashed in the weak February sunlight coming in from the high windows of the Visitors’ Gallery. He was walking – and laughing – with a tall, chestnut-haired man who had one hand on her son’s shoulder. A stocky, black-haired man walked beside them.

“There’s my Mikey!” cried Debbie. She stood up and waved. The black-haired inmate smiled and came over to the table.

“Ma!” said Michael, giving Debbie a hug. 

“Jennifer, this is my son, Michael!” Debbie said.

But Jennifer only had eyes for Justin. Her son made his way over to the table. It wasn’t so much that a month in prison had really changed him, thought Jennifer, it couldn’t have changed my Justin. But he looked different somehow. Older. More like a man. Then he smiled at her. And she grabbed him across the table, hugging him tightly.

“Please don’t smother me, Mom.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.” They both sat down and Jennifer tried not to cry. “You wrote that you were in the Hospital. Are you all right? How are you feeling now?”

Justin’s eyes were evasive. “I’m fine, Mom. It was just a little... upset. Until I got used to the way things work around here.”

Jennifer frowned. “What do you mean, the way things work?”

Justin’s face became bland. “I mean the food. It didn’t agree with me.”

Jennifer knew that wasn’t true, but she didn’t want to push it right now. “I brought some of the things you asked for. Not everything, but some of the items. The underwear and socks.” Jennifer pushed the package across the table. 

Justin’s face lit up. “Thanks, Mom! You don’t know I appreciate this!” He signaled to a guard, who came over and tagged the package and carried it out of the room. “They have to check it for contraband,” Justin explained.

“Oh, I see.”

“Is there a sweater in there? A really warm one?” asked Justin.

“Yes, honey. A wool cardigan. I bought it at Horne’s.”

“That’s perfect!” Justin beamed at her. 

Well, thought Jennifer, no one is forcing him to do this. Justin could never fake that grin. “Are these things for your... friend?”

Justin glanced down the row and smiled. Jennifer followed his eyes to where the tall inmate was sitting with the older man in the expensive suit. That must be the one. Justin’s cellmate. “Yes. I didn’t tell him that I was getting the stuff for him. It’s a surprise. Brian’s sweater got ruined and he didn’t have another one. And he really needed some new underwear and things.”

“Oh,” said Jennifer. “I see. I brought a few of the books, too.” 

Jennifer kept glancing over to where the tall man was sitting. He and the older man were having an intense conversation, their heads close together. Then she remembered what Debbie had told her. That the ex-lawyer, Mr. Rosenblum, came every month to visit his lover. This same tall inmate who was now Justin’s cellmate. Jennifer’s head was reeling. It was all too much to take in.

“Mom? I asked how Molly is? And... and Dad, too?”

“Oh, they’re both fine, honey. Daddy is so busy with work or else he’d be here,” Jennifer lied. 

But Justin could see the truth on his mother’s face. His father was disappointed in him. He didn’t want to visit his son in prison. Craig Taylor couldn’t face that. Justin realized for the first time in his life that his father was a coward. And that his mother, the fragile Jennifer, was the brave one in the Taylor family.

“I was talking to that new lady,” said Debbie to her son, Michael. “Jennifer Taylor. Her son is the blond kid. I saw you walk in with him and Brian.”

Michael made a face. “He’s Brian’s new cellie. He’s a real little drama princess. Thinks he’s God’s gift to the East Wing.”

Debbie shook her head. “He seems like a sweet kid. And his mom is really worried about him. But if Brian’s looking out for him, I’m sure he’ll be just fine.”

“Oh, yeah, he’s fine all right.” Michael crossed his arms in front of his chest. He had his long hair pushed back behind his ears and he was wearing his plain chambray prison shirt, without any kind of embellishment. It wouldn’t do to have his mother see him in drag. It was one thing to be a fag, but quite another to let your ma know that inside the joint you were a full-fledged drag queen. “He’s got Brian wrapped around his little finger!”

“So,” said Debbie. “The kid and Brian are hooked up? I thought so!”

Michael pushed out his lower lip. “What do you know about it, Ma?”

“The boy’s mother, Jennifer, brought a package of clothes and stuff – all for Brian. Her son asked her to get it. Sounds like a punk taking good care of his daddy!” Debbie laughed.

“Why don’t you just let it rest, huh, Ma?” said Michael.

Debbie leaned close to her son. “I know you have a huge crush on Brian, sweetie, but he’s obviously not interested in you. Brian likes you as a friend. Besides, you’re hooked up with Dave!”

Michael pouted. “Dave’s probably getting out soon. And then I won’t have anybody! It isn’t fair!”

“Honey,” Debbie said. “Snap out of it! The kid is really cute. He’s perfect for Brian! In another year you’ll be up for parole yourself, Mikey, so it’s just as well that you don’t get your heart stomped on by Bri Baby. Because you know he’s a heartbreaker.”

“I don’t care,” Michael replied. “It still stinks!”

“I brought these for you, kid,” said Ron, shoving a brown paper bag across the table at Brian.

Brian tilted his head. “What’s this?” He opened the bag and pulled out a round tin.

“Cookies,” said Ron. “Jane made them. Chocolate chip and peanut butter.”

Brian was puzzled. “Ron, why are you bringing me cookies? You’ve never brought me anything before. I mean... like food or anything.” Actually, thought Brian, he’s never brought me anything at all, except more paperwork.

“I don’t know,” mumbled Ron. “I thought you might like them.”

“Sure. Thanks,” Brian replied. Justin will eat these up in about two minutes, he thought. “Sorry about last month. I forwarded all of the forms I’d been working on to Jerry at the PLD office so that things wouldn’t get held up. I put notes on them in case they had any questions.”

“Yes, Jerry got them. That was good, Bri,” said Ron.

Brian ran his fingers over the cookie tin. “You know, Ron, I understand that it’s a pain for you to trek all the way out here every month, especially since this winter has been so rotten. You don’t need to pick up all of the paperwork in person. It worked fine for me to send the stuff directly. Really, I don’t want you to feel obligated, you know, just because....” Brian stopped, ill at ease.

“I’m not doing it because I feel obligated,” said Ron, defensively. “That’s not why I come here.”

Brian’s stomach clenched. “Then why do you come here, Ron? All you ever talk about is legal work. And... and it isn’t really essential that we do this in person. You don’t have to come and make believe that you’re ‘working’ when it’s obvious that you’re only doing it because you feel guilty. Because I don’t need your pity, Ron. I... I’m doing fine.”

Ron suddenly felt an odd sense of panic. “I don’t pity you, Bri. I’ve never pitied you! If that’s what you think, it’s bullshit! Last month, when they wouldn’t let us inside, one of C.O.’s told me that you were in the Hospital. Do you know how that made me feel? Not knowing what the hell was going on in there? Not knowing if you were really hurt?”

Brian sighed. “I’m sorry, Ron. I called as soon as we came out of lockdown to let you know I was okay. I’m sorry if you thought it was me who was injured.”

“I know. It was some kid,” Ron returned. “But I didn’t know that! For days I couldn’t get any fucking information!”

“Jesus,” Brian breathed. “What’s the difference? It’s not like you’re still in here, Ron. It’s not like we’re hooked up anymore. You don’t have to get all macho and shit. You don’t have to pretend that you care anymore. It isn’t necessary.”

“Brian,” said Ron, reaching across the table and trying to take his hand. “Baby.”

“Cut it out, Ron,” said Brian, pulling his hand back.

Ron’s face was strained. “What the fuck is the matter with you? What’s going on? Tell me!”

Brian bit at the inside of his lip. He hadn’t thought much about how Ron would feel about what was going on between Brian and Justin. About how Brian had taken the kid under his wing. But also about how it was slowly but surely becoming more than that. Much more.

Brian took a deep breath. “That new kid. The one who was in the Hospital. His name is Justin.” 

“Yeah, what about him?” said Ron, tensing.

“He’s celling with me,” said Brian. 

“That kid? Celling with you? What the fuck happened to Andy?” said Ron, his voice rising. 

Brian looked directly at his former lover. “I told Andy to take a hike. He moved in with Beemer. And Justin’s in with me. We... we’re hooked up. I didn’t know how to tell you. Not that is matters to you, Ron. You’re out, you’re home, you have your wife and kids. What do you care about what I do in here?”

“Of course I care, Brian! What do you think?” Ron felt like he’d been punched.

“It has nothing to do with you, Ron. Nothing at all. This is about me and Justin,” said Brian. He felt strange. Ron was taking this development a lot more personally than Brian had imagined and that made Brian feel like the guilty one. “Besides, you don’t need a ‘prison wife’ anymore, Ron. You have your real one at home.”

Ron glared at Brian across the table. “Prison wife? Fuck you if that’s what you think you were, Brian!” Ron stood up and grabbed his briefcase. One of the C.O.’s started walking over, but Ron waved him away. “Enjoy your little fuckboy, Baby. Enjoy pretending to be a man! But if that’s all that 8 goddamn years meant to you, then fuck YOU! I mean it! FUCK YOU!”

And Brian – and the whole gallery of inmates and visitors – watched as Ron stormed out into the snow, which had begun to fall again all over Stanton Correctional.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trouble in the Visitors' Gallery.

Chapter 28

 

Justin looked up when he heard the man yelling. He turned and saw the guy that Brian had been visiting with, his old cellmate, Ron, stomping out of the Visitors’ Gallery.

Debbie, at the next table with her son, Michael, rolled her eyes. “Someone is in a bad mood!”

“Bri probably told Ron that he was celling with the kid. Looks like Ron isn’t too happy about that,” said Michael, his eyes glued to Brian.

“I don’t think Mr. Rosenblum has much to say about the situation, Mikey,” Debbie replied. “Because he’s out here and Bri Baby is in THERE – with the kid!” 

“Brilliant observation, Ma!” Michael moaned.

Then Brian stood up and walked slowly out of the Visitors’ Gallery. He took the tin of cookies with him.

Justin watched Brian leave – and got up to follow him.

“Justin!” cried Jennifer. “Where are you going?”

Justin stood there, confused, for almost a full minute. Then he sat back down in the chair across from his mother.

“Justin, what’s the matter? Please tell me!” Jennifer begged.

“Brian... my cellie... he just left,” Justin said. “I think he’s upset.”

Jennifer felt that she was going to start crying again. “Honey, I haven’t seen you since... since you came to this place – and now you want to rush off because your... your roommate is upset? What’s going on here, Justin?”

Justin swallowed. “Nothing is going on, Mom! I’m just concerned about Brian.” Justin kept looking in the direction of the door. “That guy, Ron, works with him in Legal Aid and I think he must have said something to Brian that really bothered him. I just want to know why he’s upset, that’s all. I want to see if I can do anything!”

Jennifer closed her eyes to steady herself. “You seem awfully concerned about this man, Justin. First you want me to bring these clothes and books for him, and now you want to leave me sitting here to run after him! I’m sure whatever happened between him and this other man is none of your business, Justin.”

“He’s my friend, Mom,” Justin answered, his face set. “And I live with him, so that makes it my business.” Justin’s eyes glanced over at the door again, as if he thought Brian might return.

“Justin, listen to me,” Jennifer said sharply. “Mrs. Novotny, the lady I was speaking with while we were waiting, says that man, Mr. Rosenblum, is your cellmate’s boyfriend. So I don’t think that you should interfere in their... their relationship. I’m sure that you think you’re being a good friend, honey, but... that’s not anything you should be involved in! With those... those men.”

Justin blinked. “‘Those’ men, Mom? You mean fags? Queers? Is that what you mean?”

Jennifer shuddered. “Yes, that’s what I mean.”

Justin slumped in his chair. “Ron is NOT Brian’s boyfriend. He was his cellie for a lot of years, but he’s not his cellie now – I am! And maybe Ron was Brian’s boyfriend for a lot of years, too, but he’s not anymore.” Justin ran his hand through his thick blond hair. “Because I am! That’s probably what Brian was telling Ron. And probably why Ron got all upset and ran off. And that’s why I have to go and find Brian! I need to talk to him NOW, Mom!”

Jennifer felt as if all the air was being let out of her body and she was deflating like a beautifully dressed balloon. “Justin, you don’t mean what you’re saying! This man has... has seduced you in some way, honey! But he can be stopped! I’ll speak to your lawyer. Maybe you can be transferred somewhere else?”

“No!” Justin shouted, bolting to his feet. “Don’t even THINK of that! I won’t go! Don’t try to fuck things up between me and Brian! I mean it!”

One of the C.O.’s came over to the table. “Keep your voice down or else this visit is over, okay, kid?”

“I’m sorry, officer,” Jennifer apologized. “I’m so sorry.” 

“All right, ma’am.” And the guard walked away.

“Deal with it, Mom,” Justin said under his breath. “Brian is MY boyfriend and not anyone else’s! We’re hooked up because we want to be. He wants to and I want to – equally. He didn’t seduce me or con me or threaten me or anything like that. Brian takes care of me and I take care of him.” Justin sniffed. It must be those allergies kicking in again, he thought. 

“Justin, your father and I care about you so much! We don’t want to see you caught up in some... some way of life that... that is so wrong!” Jennifer pulled out another kleenex.

Justin gazed at his mother steadily. “Then I’m ‘wrong,’ Mom – and I always have been. I’ve been gay ever since I can remember. You’ve known it for a long time, so don’t pretend you haven’t! But if Dad can’t accept me as a criminal, then I’m positive that he won’t be able to accept me as a faggot. So tell him not to bother visiting me here at Stanton. Don’t think I’m not aware that you’re constantly making excuses for him, Mom. About why he didn’t come today, or why he never came to see me in the county lock-up. Well, I want to see HIM about as much as HE wants to see me, so we’re even. Tell him that his queer son sends him that message from prison!”

Jennifer began crying loudly. Debbie Novotny got up from her chair and put her arm around the distressed woman. “Don’t get your poor mother all in a tizzy, Princess!” she warned Justin. “Be a good boy! Isn’t this hard enough for her as it is?”

Justin stood up. “I think YOU should mind your own fucking business, Mrs. Novotny.” He glanced at Michael, who was gawking at the melodrama. “And tell your drag queen son, Michelle, to butt out, too! She’s the prissiest queen in the whole Quad and she better quit giving MY man the goo-goo eye – or I’ll kick her nelly ass!” And Justin turned and ran down the line of tables and out the door of the Visitors’ Gallery.

“Rude little shit,” Debbie commented. “Isn’t he?”

But that only made Jennifer Taylor cry all the harder.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mistakes were made.

Chapter 29

 

Justin was halfway back to his tier before he realized that he never should have left the Administration Building, let alone walked through the connecting passageways, by himself. Brian would be furious at him for taking that chance. Well, it was too late to turn back now.

But when Justin got to their cell, it was empty.

A round tin was sitting on the lower bunk. Justin pried it open and saw that it was filled with homemade cookies. He tried one – chocolate chip – and then shoved a few more into his pocket for later.

Justin sat down on the bunk and waited, but Brian didn’t return.

Justin knew that he shouldn’t go searching for Brian. That was Brian’s strictest rule – don’t wander around the fucking Quad! But most of the other inmates were at work this time of the day. And the low-riders were all in the Industry Building, mainly working in the machine shop.

So Justin locked the cell door behind him and headed down to the Library. He hurried, as he always did, when he passed the small meeting room. Then he pulled open the heavy Library door.

But Brian wasn’t there, either. Murray was shelving books and a couple of inmates were studying at the tables. That’s what Justin would have been doing if it wasn’t Visiting Day. He and Brian usually came down to the Library after breakfast and Justin did his assignments while Brian worked in the Law Library. And on days when the instructor came to the prison, Brian escorted him to and from class in the Administration Building so that he didn’t have to walk alone.

Justin sat down at one of the tables and tried to think of where else Brian might be. The Chow Hall was closed between meals. The Chapel was not likely. Brian might be in the Gym, lifting weights at the iron pile, but that was one place where Justin really didn’t want to venture by himself. 

The last time Brian had seemed this upset was when they had only been living together for about a week. Brian had gone up to the iron pile with Al and a couple of the jockers to work out, so he left Justin with Michelle and Barbie. And the two queens had decided that Justin could do with a make-over.

“A jocker likes everybody to know that he’s a REAL man, which means that his punk should be as much like a real woman as possible,” Michelle insisted. “You’re too... punky. You’d look really cute with much longer hair.”

“Yeah!” exclaimed Barbie, getting into the spirit. “We have some pastel tops that would be perfect with your blond hair.” She pulled out one of Emmy’s pink tee shirts and a sheer peach blouse.

“I don't know about this,” Justin had hesitated. “Brian thinks I’m fine the way I am.”

“Men don’t know what they like until they see it,” said Michelle, getting out her make-up kit. “You know that Brian and Emmy used to get it on regularly. And no one in this Quad is a bigger queen than Emmy! That should give you a clue to what Bri Baby likes.”

“That’s true,” Barbie agreed. “I thought that Em and Brian might even hook up after Ron left, but it didn’t happen. Lucky for YOU, babydoll!”

Justin still wasn’t sure. But the queens knew Brian a lot better than Justin did. They knew what he liked – so they said. So Justin had let Michelle and Barbie powder him and make up his eyes and lips. Then they decked him out in Emmy’s pink tee shirt and a dark crimson sweater over that. 

Michelle even fluffed up Justin’s hair and curled it a little at the ends. “Perfect!” Michelle had pronounced. 

About that time Emmy returned from the Hospital Wing. She took one look at Justin and grimaced. “I don’t think this is a good idea, ladies.”

“Why not?” said Barbie. “She looks adorable!”

Actually, Justin thought he looked ridiculous, but if this was what Brian liked, he was willing to give it a try.

“Honey, you don’t have to wear those things if you don’t want to,” Emmy told Justin seriously. “Because you know that Brian already thinks you’re perfect the way you are.” 

“Perfectly boring, you mean,” Michelle sniffed. “Now the only thing missing is a name.”

“Justine?” Barbie suggested.

“That’s a terrible drag name,” said Emmy. “If you’re going to do this right, then you have to have a name that fits your personality, Sunshine.”

“Then what about ‘Sunny’? That’s cute and it fits her to a tee!” said Barbie.

“I agree! Sunny is IT!” chimed in Michelle. “It’s too bad that we don’t have any shoes to fit her. Those sneakers are terrible. My mother can order some for you, Sunny. She gets us stuff all the time!”

It had been almost time for 4:00 head count when Barbie looked out on the tier and saw Brian hanging with some of the jockers in front of the Rec Room. Michelle decided that would be the best place for Sunny’s debut. 

Except that the second Justin saw Brian’s face, he knew he’d made a huge mistake. Brian stared at Justin’s made-up eyes and pink tee shirt and he fingered the boy’s fluffy golden hair. The jockers who Brian had been working out with glanced at each other. A couple of them thought that the kid looked really good. He made a sweet little queen.

“Whose fucking idea was THIS?” Brian asked. His voice was very low and very dark. 

“Mine,” said Michelle, stepping up defiantly. 

Brian slowly slipped the crimson sweater off Justin’s shoulders and threw it back at Michelle. “The next time you ‘ladies’ decide to play Beauty School, find another fucking model!” he had yelled. 

Michelle and Barbie shrank back and Emmy tried to apologize, but Brian wasn’t listening. He gripped Justin’s arm firmly and marched him back to their cell, where he practically rubbed the boy’s face raw washing off the make-up Michelle and Barbie had so carefully applied.

“I’m s-sorry, B-Brian!” Justin stammered. “They said you’d like it! Michelle said that you’d feel m-more like a man if I looked m-more like a... a girl.” 

“Fuck what Michelle and Barbie say! They don’t know SHIT about what I feel and what I like and don’t like!” Brian shouted at the boy.

Justin dried his face and took off the pink tee shirt. He dropped it on the floor and put on one of his own plain white ones. “But they told me that you and Emmy were almost hooked up. That you... you would like me if I was more like them.”

“Was Emmett really in on this, too?” Brian’s voice softened.

Justin shook his head. “No. Emmy was working. When she came back she said it might not be such a good idea.”

“Emmy was correct. It was a lousy idea! And Michelle and Barbie are fucking idiots – and so are you if you ever listen to them again!” Then Brian turned his back on Justin and wouldn’t say anything else.

Justin had laid down on the lower bunk and rubbed his eyes. He’d really fucked up. He had been sleeping next to Brian in his bunk every night, but that was about all. Emmy and all the others assumed that the two were hooked up for real, but the truth was something quite different. Brian put his arms around him after lights out and then every morning when Justin woke up he could feel Brian’s extremely prominent hard-on poking at him. But Brian hadn’t tried to do anything more. So when Michelle had suggested a slight image change, Justin had been willing to try it. And it had backfired big time.

That evening Brian went out ‘for a smoke’ and ordered Justin not to leave the cell. And for the next few days things were strained between them. Brian wouldn’t discuss what had happened. That iron wall came down over Brian’s emotions and there was no getting past it. 

Out for a smoke. Yes! That’s what Brian did when he needed to think. Justin stood up and left the Library. He headed for the East Wing exit and looked through the big double doors into the Yard. 

The snow was swirling around the desolate and empty Yard. And huddled against the pillar, just outside the East Wing doors, was Brian. He had pulled Justin’s St. James Academy sweatshirt over his worn workshirt, but he was still shivering violently as he puffed on a cigarette.

“Brian, it’s too cold to stand out there. Come in now!” Justin ordered.

Brian looked up and shook his head. He dropped the cigarette butt into the slush at his feet and came inside. “What the fuck are you doing here? Why aren’t you still over in the Visitors’ Gallery?”

“I walked out after I saw you leave,” said Justin. “We need to talk.”

“Have you been wandering around, looking for me?” Brian huffed. “Where’s your goddamn head, Justin?”

But Justin refused to back down. “I’m not an infant! I knew where I was going and I was careful. If I’m going to live in the Quad and survive in this prison, I can’t be afraid every minute of the day. You taught me that, Brian. I can’t be a victim. Besides, everyone is at work and no one is around.”

Brian closed his eyes. “That’s the point! No one is around! Anyone could grab you and pull you into a corner and no one would hear you call for help! You fucking little twat!”

“You would hear me, Brian,” Justin said. “Wherever you are, you’ll always hear me.” And he put his arms around Brian and pressed his face against the sweatshirt, which was damp with melting snow. “My old sweatshirt isn’t thick enough to go outside, Brian.”

“I know. I think my balls have frozen solid.”

“Then I’ll have to warm them up,” Justin answered. “Come on.” He took Brian’s hand and pulled him back into the East Wing and up to their cell in the third tier.


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian has a confession to make to Justin.

Chapter 30

 

The tiers were quiet in the early afternoon, when most of the inmates were at work or in the Visitors’ Gallery.

Justin unlocked the cell door. Inside, Brian stripped off Justin’s sweatshirt and stuffed it into an old pillowcase that Justin had designated as the laundry bag.

“What’s this?” Brian asked. There was a cardboard box sitting next to the bunks. He nudged it with his foot as he sat on the bed.

“This is the stuff my mom brought!” Justin cried in delight. “The guards must have delivered it while we were out!” He knelt down on the floor next to it and opened the flaps. The C.O.’s had already gone through the contents, so they were a little tumbled around, but everything that Jennifer had promised was there.

“Like you don’t already have enough crap in here,” Brian groused. Justin’s clothes and art supplies and school books were making the small cell more than a little crowded.

“This isn’t for me, Brian,” the boy returned. “This is all for you.”

Brian frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“I asked my mother to get you some of the things that I thought you needed.” Justin pulled out some brand new pairs of briefs and tee shirts. A few of the tee shirts were the sleeveless kind. They had watched an old Marlon Brando film on Movie Night a few weeks before and Justin had thought that Brian would look really good in that kind of undershirt, so he’d written his mother to get those in particular.

“You had your mom buy clothes... for me?” Brian picked up one of the tee shirts. “Why?”

“Because you needed them. And I saw that you needed them. It wasn’t any trouble to ask her to do it.” Justin took out the sweater. It was a dark green cardigan in a heavy cable knit. It looked nice and warm. “Here. Try this on.”

“I can’t take it,” said Brian, inching back. 

“Yes, you can. I already have a warm sweater. And some sweatshirts – which you keep borrowing.” Justin pushed the sweater into Brian’s hands. “Do you want to insult me by refusing to wear it? Or maybe you think my mother has bad taste?”

“No,” said Brian, staring at the sweater. “It’s just that... that except for my government issue, I haven’t had any new clothes since... since I came in here.” Brian rubbed the sweater between his fingers. The wool was thick and had a rich smell. “All of my clothes were things that no one else wanted anymore. That old sweater that got ruined was one of Ron’s. He left it behind when he was paroled.”

Justin’s heart felt a little squeeze. “These things aren’t anyone else’s, Brian. Really. I got your sizes when I did the laundry. I wrote my mom exactly what to buy. When the weather gets warmer, I’ll ask her send some more summery stuff.”

“No, you don’t have to do that, Justin,” Brian insisted. “It isn’t necessary.”

“No, I don’t have to. But I want to.” Justin sat down next to Brian on the bunk. “It’s such a little thing – a few pairs of underwear – but I know how much of a difference it can make. It’s the crummy little things that make a difference in here. Like when you got me my pencils and my drawing pad.”

Brian shrugged. “I called the office supply store when I needed more typing paper and legal pads and I just added them to the order. I knew you would want them.”

“And it made me feel alive again when I could draw. I didn’t ask you to do it – you just did,” said Justin, leaning his head against Brian’s shoulder. “And my mom sent some books, too. Paperbacks. We both can read them. I know you’ve read those same books over and over again.” Justin glanced over to a line of ragged paperbacks on the highest shelf, above where Justin had folded and stored their clothes. “And when I start taking that correspondence course with the Literature professor at Penn, I’ll get even more books.”

“You have everything all figured out, don’t you, kid?”

“Not really,” Justin replied. “A lot of things I don’t have figured out too well. And when I make a mistake, it’s a doozy.”

“You mean like your ‘Sunny’ persona?” Brian smiled at the thought of Justin in Emmy’s pink tee shirt, his bright blue eyes smudged with eyeshadow and black mascara.

“I thought you weren’t going to mention that again, Brian! It was SO embarrassing!” Justin groaned.

“It’s actually kind of funny – in retrospect,” said Brian. “I guess Michelle and Barbie meant well. And you were doing what you thought I wanted – acting like a little queen. Just like I’ve been trying to act like a fucking bigshot jocker. But that’s all it is, kid – acting.”

“And that’s all our hooking up is, Brian? Acting?” Justin asked. “All it’ll ever be? Really?”

Brian chewed on his lip. “After what happened to you, Justin, after seeing you in the Hospital and knowing how you’d been hurt... do you think I’m about to go all macho on your ass? Treat you like you’re nothing more than a possession to be fucked over and used up? Something to be owned, with one person having everything, and the other person having nothing – not even himself?”

“That’s not the way things have to be, Brian,” Justin replied softly. “Maybe that’s what you’ve had to deal with in the past, but that’s not how it has to be.” Justin put his arm around Brian’s waist. “You told me that no matter how we have to act out on the tier or in the Chow Hall or in the Rec Room or wherever, that has nothing to do with how we act in this cell. Isn’t that what you said?”

“Maybe,” Brian replied.

“It has nothing to do with how we act to each other when we’re alone. It’s not anyone else’s fucking business. Right, Brian?”

“Yes, it’s no one else’s fucking business,” Brian agreed.

“Then believe it, Brian.” Justin looked at him. Brian’s face was brooding. Justin thought he looked beautiful like that, with his lip pushed out and his eyes all shadowy. “Why did you have that argument with Ron? Why did he start yelling? And why did he leave like that?”

Brian blinked. “Because I told Ron something he didn’t want to hear. And he got angry.”

“And what didn’t he want to hear, Brian?” asked Justin, his heart pounding.

Brian licked his lips. “That I was hooked up with someone else. With you.”

“I figured as much,” said Justin. “But you didn’t have to tell him that, Brian. If it’s only hooking up for pretend, only for my protection, then he didn’t have to know. Or you could have explained to him that... that it isn’t for real. That Ron is still your... your real boyfriend. Then he wouldn’t have gotten mad at you.” Justin picked up the round tin, which was still sitting on the bunk. “If he’s mad at you, he probably won’t bring you any more cookies.”

“Fuck the cookies!” Brian took the tin out of Justin’s hand and stood up. He stashed the cookie tin on the shelf next to the sink. Then he pulled the blanket off the top bunk and shook it out.

“What are you doing?” asked Justin. He watched as Brian draped the blanket over the bed frame, tucking it under the mattress of the top bunk. The blanket hung down almost to the floor of the cell and covered the front of the lower bunk.

“It’s an old jocker’s trick,” Brian answered. “This is so no one can see you from the outside. Not that the C.O.’s give a shit, because they don’t. Especially down at this end of the tier. It’s nice and quiet down here. No one causes any trouble. And so no one will disturb us.”

Justin’s mouth gaped open. “Disturb us doing what, Brian?”

Brian took hold of Justin’s wrist and hauled him to his feet. He unbuttoned Justin’s workshirt and tossed it on the floor. Next, he pulled Justin’s white tee shirt off over his head. Then he undid the front of Justin’s baggy white workpants and yanked them down. And finally Brian pushed Justin back onto the bunk and pulled off his gray undershorts, tossing them over his shoulder.

“This,” Brian said.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally! Brian and Justin seal the deal.

Chapter 31

 

February 1978

 

“Brian....” Justin whispered.

“You have to be quiet,” said Brian. “We don’t want the C.O.’s looking in here and then writing us up for unlawful physical contact.”

“I’ll try,” said Justin. “I’ll....” But Justin’s words were cut off by Brian’s mouth pressing down against his lips. Sucking away any more possible words, any more possible thoughts that Justin might have had.

Justin’s entire body was trembling while his mind was racing madly. Half of him was terrified, but the other half was straining with expectation. He had been dreaming about the moment when he would have sex with a beautiful man, with someone out of his fantasies, but Justin had thought that had been ruined forever by what had happened to him in that dark little room. 

But Brian didn’t think he was ruined. Long ago Brian had horrible things done to him, and he had been made to do horrible things, but that didn’t stop him from reaching out to Justin. Didn’t stop him from loving Justin. And Justin was certain that Brian loved him. As certain as he was of anything in his life. Yes, the face of God, and nothing less.

Justin was naked in the bunk. He thought that he’d be embarrassed when this moment came, but instead it seemed the most natural thing that he had ever done. Brian had pulled his clothes off, piece by piece, touching him, caressing him, leaning Justin back on the bunk and stretching out on top of him.

And now Brian was investigating Justin’s mouth with his tongue. Exploring it and claiming it. The taste of cigarettes and chocolate chip cookies mingled together. Justin could no longer tell which one of them was breathing because it was all the same breath.

Then Brian was moving over his face, kissing every corner, his eyelids, the curve of his mouth, the place where his neck met his ear. Justin shuddered. Brian’s tongue trailed down from that spot. Down Justin’s neck into the pit of his throat. And lower to catch Justin’s pink nipple between his lips. Sucking at it. Pulling at it. Biting it gently.

“Brian!” Justin gasped. “I... I think I’m going to come!” His dick was so hard that Justin thought it would explode. It was pressing against Brian’s thigh. Justin couldn’t even remember when Brian had taken off his clothes, but he was definitely naked now, too. Justin moved his hands down and felt Brian’s slender hips, his muscular ass. Felt his hot, smooth skin.

“No,” Brian whispered. “Don’t come yet. Don’t....”

“I... I’ll try, but....”

And then Brian’s mouth darted downward and enveloped Justin’s thick, blunt cock. It was like being plunged into wet velvet. Wet, hot velvet. And Justin couldn’t hold himself back another second. Justin’s dick bucked deeper into Brian’s mouth, but Brian held steady, pulling it with his lips and tongue, extending the sensation until Justin thought he’d have to cry out.

But then Brian’s mouth was against his again. And Justin could taste his own essence on Brian’s tongue. And Justin felt that he’d been reclaimed somehow. He could no longer feel the blank hands of the bikers on his skin. No longer hear their nameless obscenities in his head. They had been replaced by the reality of this man. Brian. His body had become the whole world.

“My God!” Justin breathed. “Oh my God!”

“Just lay here quietly,” Brian whispered. And they held perfectly still.

Justin could hear footsteps ringing down the tier. A cell opening. That metal rattle of the lock.

“Justin? Hey! Are you in there?” Someone was knocking on their cell door. “Justin!”

Justin blinked. “It’s Wesley,” he said, pressing closer to Brian. “I promised I’d ask Michelle if Wes could borrow some of her comic books. But I forgot.”

“Don’t move. He’ll go away.” Brian’s tongue circled the inside of Justin’s ear and he shivered. Brian took Justin’s hand and guided it to Brian’s cock. Moved Justin’s hand up and down his length. Justin could feel Brian’s heavy balls brush against his hand. They didn’t seem frozen anymore. They seemed burning hot. Justin trembled even more violently, in anticipation.

“Not now, but soon, when you’re ready,” Brian promised. “This is going to be inside you. Every fucking inch of it. Do you want it? Do you?”

“What do you think!” Justin moaned.

“Justin? Did you get the comic books or not?” came Wes’ voice. “Justin?”

They stayed still until they heard Wes’ footsteps walking away, back down the tier.

“They’ll all be coming back soon,” said Brian, not really wanting to move, but knowing that it was inevitable. “We better get dressed.”

“Okay,” Justin replied. But they remained in the bunk, welded together.

Wes ambled into the Rec Room and plopped down next to Al on the broken-down sofa. Al was just back from his job in the Industry Building and he and Andy were trying to play a hand of cards before it was time to go in for 4:00 head count.

“Where’ve you been, bitch?” asked Al fondly. He punched Wes lightly on the arm.

“I went to see if Justin got me those comic books, but he was busy.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Al, studying his cards. “Doin’ what?”

“He and Bri were in their cell fucking their brains out, so I’ll have to ask him later,” Wes sighed. 

Andy rolled his eyes and grimaced at Al.

“Jesus. It’s about time,” said Al. “Gimme another card, Andy. I think I’m about to get lucky, too!”


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The word spreads through the Quad.

Chapter 32

 

“Emmy! Did you hear?” yelped Barbie when Em returned to their cell from her shift at the Hospital Wing. “I mean about Brian and Justin?”

“The minute I climbed up to the tier, that’s all anyone was blabbing about, honey!” exclaimed Em. “I am ALL a-tingle!”

“I wish everyone would give it rest!” Michelle griped. “So, they fucked? Who gives a shit? People fuck in this joint every day and no one makes a federal case about it.”

“Someone’s been bitten by the green-eyed monster!” chanted Barbie.

“Shut the hell up, you ugly bitch!” Michelle gave Barbie a shove.

“Look who’s talking! Mealy-mouthed pussy-boy!” Barbie shoved back.

“Who are YOU calling a pussy-boy?” Michelle shrieked.

“Ladies! Please!” shouted Em, pushing her way between her cellmate and her friend. “That’s enough! Now, Michelle, I suggest that you get back to your cell or you’ll be late for head count.”

“Okay,” Michelle grumbled. But she gave Barbie one last withering glance before she left.

“Now,” said Em. “What happened here while I was toiling among the bedpans?”

“Well,” said Barbie, licking her lips. “Good old Ronnie came to visit Bri and they had a BIG blow-up in the Visitors’ Gallery. Guess why?”

“Little Miss Muffet, of course!” Em replied. Em knew there would be trouble about the kid!

“Bingo!” Barbie confirmed. “So Lou Lou – her mom and sister were visiting and they were a couple of tables down – says that Ron yelled at Bri and slammed out of the room in a huff! Then Brian got up and left, really depressed. So the kid went after him – but not before he and Michelle had a few words. Right in front of Michelle’s mom AND the kid’s mom, too!”

Emmy laughed. “No wonder Michelle’s knickers are in a twist, babydoll! She is SO jealous of that sweet boy it isn’t funny!”

“Then I guess Wesley went to their cell to see Justin – and the two of them were in there going at it HOT and HEAVY! You could HEAR them half way down the tier!” Barbie panted.

“You know that Bri Baby does have that 9-inch cock, honey!” Emmy confided. “That thing would cause a commotion anywhere on God’s green earth! Even I, who have literally seen it ALL, am impressed every time I behold its beautiful magnitude!”

“I’ve only been fucked by Baby once!” moaned Barbie. “Now I’ll probably NEVER get another chance! And poor Michelle – I don’t think Bri has EVER given HER a tumble. That’s why she’s so pissy about the kid.”

“Poor Michy. And Dave is getting out at the end of next month,” Emmy sighed. “Michelle will just have to be satisfied with her comic books from now on!”

And the two queens collapsed in a fit of giggling.

At 5:00 the C.O.’s racked the cell doors and the inmates began lining up to go down to the Chow Hall. Naturally, every man was waiting to see whether Brian and Justin would emerge for dinner. How would they act? What would they say? 

Not just the queens and the punks, but the jockers, too, were obsessed with gossip. When so many men lived together in such close quarters, nothing was really a secret, and the permutations of every relationship made up the main subject of most conversations on all the tiers. And this new couple, who had caused such a stir from the minute the kid entered the Quad and caught Bri Baby’s eye, was THE hot topic of the moment. 

Justin came out of the cell, grinning like a cat who had swallowed a very big canary. Maybe even a 9-inch canary. His hair was more than a little tousled and slightly damp from washing up and his usually pale face was blushing red.

The kid held the cell door open for his old man and Brian stepped out. He was wearing a brand new white sleeveless tee shirt, one of the style that the inmates called a ‘wifebeater’ because it was favored by the most macho of the street studs. The tee fit tightly across Brian’s broad shoulders and muscular back, showing off his pumped-up upper arms. The hours he’d been spending up on the iron pile were definitely paying off.

All the queens were swooning over Brian’s new appearance. “I always said that man would look good in nothing but a burlap sack,” Emmy pronounced. “But in that wifebeater I don’t even think our esteemed warden, Mr. Horvath, would kick Bri Baby out of bed for eating crackers!”

“Hey, Justin!” said Wes, as they lined up along the tier. Wesley was addressing Justin, but his eyes were riveted on Justin’s tall cellie. Wes had lived next door to Brian for a while but never really noticed just how completely hot he was before.

“Hey, Wes,” said Justin. “I forgot about the comic books. I’d ask Michelle about them at dinner tonight, but she’s a little mad at me right now.”

“That’s okay,” Wes replied. “No hurry. Are you gonna take that new class? There’s a flyer up in the Library for it. Creative Writing. The instructor is coming in once a week, on Tuesday evenings. I gotta take it ’cause I need the extra credits before I’m ready to take my High School Equivalency Test.” Wes had pretty much stopped going to school around the 9th Grade, so he needed all of the credits he could cram in to get his diploma before he left the joint.

Justin was immediately interested in the new class. Something creative would be great. His mind needed a little more stimulation than it was getting in the basic classes available for the inmates in Stanton. “Yeah, I’d like to take that class. It would be fun.” Then he paused. “But I have to ask my old man first – to see if it’s okay with him.” Justin reached back and felt Brian’s hand grab hold of his, their fingers intertwining.

“Right,” Wes nodded. “You gotta ask your old man.” Wes glanced up at Brian, who was smiling down at the two punks. Wes used to shoot the breeze with Bri all the time before, stopping by his cell to kill some time. But now Wes was afraid to speak to Brian directly. Al got really jealous if he caught Wes talking to another jocker.

As they began filing down the stairway Al gave Brian a nudge. “Hey, Brian. Me and Junior and Johnny and some of the guys are playing b-ball tonight against some jocks from the second tier. We could use another tall guy. You in?”

Brian smiled slightly. “Sure, Al,” he said. He reached down and casually adjusted his dick in the front of his khakis. “I’m up for whatever you guys got going. So, yeah – count me in the game from now on.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Jockers' B-Ball Team.

Chapter 33

 

Justin and Wesley found seats in the bleachers next to Emmy and Barbie and a group of their pals. All the queens had turned out to see Bri Baby play basketball with the Big Men.

“How come Michelle isn’t here?” asked Justin, looking around. “Dave’s playing tonight.” Michelle’s jocker was on the second tier team.

“I think Michelle and Dave are on the outs,” Emmy confided. “She’s just queening out, honey. Don’t you worry your little head about her.”

“I’m not,” said Justin, firmly. “I don’t think about Michelle at all.”

A couple of Wesley’s buddies from the tier, Joey and Stormy, came and sat with the boys. Justin knew them both from their classes, but he hadn’t really had much interaction with the other punks in the East Wing. He’d been too afraid at first, but he wasn’t afraid anymore. 

The other boys smirked at Emmy and the queens. Most of the punks in the Quad looked down on queens, who they thought of as ‘real’ fags. After all, punks weren’t fags. Not in their own minds, at least. But Justin, like his old man, Brian, was a bit of a puzzle. Justin was a little faggy, maybe even a little queeny, too, sometimes, but he was also nice. And so was Brian. Brian wasn’t real hard or macho, but he was a regular guy. The punks liked the way Brian treated his kid and the way the pair were so at ease around each other. Most of the punks wished they felt that comfortable with their own jockers.

All the punks had accepted Justin into their ranks without too much problem. He was friendly and not stuck-up, even though he was the smartest guy in their classes. Justin had also promised to help the other kids with their homework, so he was a guy worth cultivating. Many of the punks were trying to pass their High School Equivalency because they knew it would look good on their records and impress the Parole Board.

Two of the C.O’s acted as referees for the game and they motioned the two teams to take the court. Justin thought the five guys on their third tier team were all good looking – and Brian the best of all in his new white wifebeater and a borrowed pair of shorts. Justin made a mental note to ask his mom to send shorts for Brian to wear for basketball. He’d need them now, especially if he was going to be playing with the other jockers regularly.

With his long arms and even longer legs, Brian seemed a bit ungainly at first next to the more practiced players, but he was also proved to be faster and more agile. Justin had been surprised when Brian accepted Al’s offer to join the team, but Brian told Justin that he’d played soccer and baseball and also run track in high school, so he was much more athletic than Justin – or any of the other inmates – had imagined. And he proved it in the gym.

“Woo hoo! I feel like a cheerleader!” exclaimed Emmy, jumping up and down as the third tier scored. “All I need are some pom poms!”

Wes made a face. “Those queens get on my nerves.”

“They aren’t so bad,” Justin said, feeling the need to defend his friends. “Although I don’t think Michelle likes me much.”

“Hey! Don’t forget to ask her about those comic books!” Wes reminded Justin. Michelle might be a queen, but she always had the latest comics. Her crazy mother sent her a package of them almost every week.

“Justin, you said you’d look over that fucking essay I had to do for Civics,” Stormy added. He was Junior’s punk and, like Wes, he was in Stanton for boosting cars. The boys had promised to teach Justin how to hot wire a car in return for his homework help.

“I’ll look it over tomorrow morning before class, okay?” said Justin, his eyes all on Brian.

“Thanks, Just,” said Stormy. “I owe you one.” 

Brian wasn’t the finest player on the third tier team – that was Joey’s jocker, Big John – but he wasn’t the worst, either. Justin was proud to see that Brian more than held his own. During the half-time break, Justin climbed down from the bleachers to give Brian some water and hand him his towel to dry off.

“You’re the best one, Brian!” Justin insisted, loyally. He wiped the sweat off Brian’s back and arms. The heat rising from Brian’s body was making Justin very horny.

“It’s always nice to have at least one fan!” Brian laughed.

“More than one,” said Justin. He pointed up to Emmy and Barbie and all the girls, waving from the stands. “You have a whole fan club!”

Brian looked at Justin’s joyful face and thought about how he had looked lying in the Hospital, his pale body ravaged and his face tear-stained. “But only one who really matters to me, right, kid?”

“Right, Brian. Only one who matters,” Justin smiled, suddenly feeling a little shy. He knew that everyone was watching them. Talking about them. But Justin didn’t care. Brian was the best. The handsomest. The greatest. And he wanted everyone to know it.

Brian draped his damp towel around Justin’s neck. “Take care of this for me, okay?”

“Sure, Brian,” Justin replied. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll take care of everything for you. Always.”

And then Justin went back up into the bleachers and watched Brian and the other guys from the third tier whip the asses off the jocks from the second tier.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quiet in the Quad.
> 
> Just one more chapter in Part I after this.

Chapter 34

 

“You were great, Brian,” said Justin as they went back to the cell for final lockdown.

“I was passable – just barely!” Brian retorted.

“But you were the best to me, and that's all that matters,” Justin replied.

“Thanks, punk,” said the old man, leaning over to kiss the kid.

After they won the basketball game, the third tier team had celebrated in the Rec Room. They even invited the two C.O.’s who had acted as referees to join in the festivities, such as they were. 

“No beer, no food, no music,” Brian complained. “It was the kind of party my mother would plan.”

Justin laughed. “But it was fun! Emmy says that as long as you have a happy occasion and good company, that’s all you need to make a party a success.” 

“I’ll remember to call Emmett the next time I throw a big bash. He can plan the whole non-event.” Brian stripped off his sweat-stained wifebeater and the borrowed shorts.

“Give me those. I’ll wash them,” said Justin. Brian was standing in only a new pair of briefs. “Those, too. Here, let me help you with them.”

Justin turned off the lights in the cell, leaving only the glow from the tier. It would be lights out all over the Quad very soon. He eased down Brian’s briefs and tossed them on top of the laundry bag. Then Justin ran his hands up and down Brian’s long body, touching every inch, his hands drinking in the texture of his skin, the softness of his dark fur, which was especially profuse around Brian’s cock.

Brian didn’t move. He merely stood and let Justin feel him, memorize him. There was nothing here for Justin to fear. Nothing rejecting or judgmental. Nothing that would ever harm him, and Brian wanted his kid to discover that right now. And Brian wanted to know that for himself as well.

Brian had already spent a third of his life locked in this cage called Stanton Correctional. Some of that time had been agonizing and humiliating. Every day he had only wished to die and be done with it. But he hadn’t died, not even when he had desperately wanted to, tried to, begged to. Against all expectations, he had survived. Yes, Baby survived. That much he owed to Ron. That and so much more. And Baby gave back everything he had – which was himself and not much else – in return. For 8 long years.

But Ron had returned only grudgingly even the littlest crumb of emotion back to his punk. Ron’s motto was ‘never give anything away’ – and that included his personal life. No, not even to the one who shared his bunk for the better part of a decade. 

Brian often wondered about Ron’s wife, Jane. What was it that she got from Ron? Why did she stay married to him, even as he remained in prison year after year? And what was she getting now that Ron was out? Did the man give himself away to her, at last? Or was it the same kind of void for her that Brian had felt for so many years?

In the end, when he looked at Ron’s face across the table in the Visitors’ Gallery, Brian realized that he felt nothing for this man he thought he’d loved for so many years. There was nothing there at all. It was all as empty as that cookie tin after Justin and Wes had finished rampaging through it. Empty and hollow.

Justin dropped his clothes on the floor and stepped away from them. He rubbed himself against Brian like a cat. Justin’s slender body was surprisingly hairy, especially his legs. The blondness of that hair was invisible in the light, but thick and springy as it raked against Brian’s own sensitive skin.

Justin was like the mirror opposite of Ron. He gave everything away without hesitation. He was fullness personified, his emotions, all his fears and joys, overflowing. This cell, this prison, this whole universe couldn’t contain the passion of this slight, but iron-willed boy. Brian was almost frightened by the ferocity of his passions. Almost. But Brian didn’t shrink away from Justin’s desire. Instead, he met it full force. Such a meeting might well have the power to rip down all the walls of Brian’s prisons, both inside himself and outside. Finally.

The walls of their cell were now papered with Justin’s drawings. A horse with a sweeping tail in full gallop. That one was right over Brian’s bunk, where he could see it every morning as he awoke. But also pictures of birds and flowers, all drawn from memory. And portraits, drawn from life – Emmy and Michelle and Barbie and Wesley and Andy and Beemer and Sergeant Tully and Dr. Caputo. 

And Brian, of course. Drawing after drawing of Brian. His face, his back, his arm, his feet, his strong, beautiful hands. And tomorrow Justin would draw his cock. Draw his entire body as he slept. Justin would draw it over and over again, like Monet kept painting those water lilies, having found his perfect subject at last.

And now, like the Honor Student he was, Justin studied that subject intently and single-mindedly. First with his hands. With his mouth. His tongue. Then with his cock. And, finally and fully, with his heart and soul. The artist merged with his subject until there was no division between them, only a perfect reflection. A perfect rhythm.

All over the Quad after lights out guys were fucking. Some violently. Some indifferently. Some merely to chase away boredom or loneliness. And some to prove that they were still men, after all, even if they were locked away in a cage like animals.

But in one cell, near the far end of the third tier, two men were making love. There was no other name for it. At least for as long as the two of them could make it last.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One more short scene.

Chapter 35

 

“Is this Mr. Rosenblum’s residence?”

Jane Rosenblum opened the door to see the attractive blonde standing on her doorstep. “Yes, it is, but this isn’t his office. I’m sorry, miss, but...”

“I know that, but... they gave me this address at the Prisoners’ Legal Defense office,” said the woman. “If Mr. Rosenblum would just see me for a few moments? I’ll make a regular appointment for next week at his office. But I NEED to speak with him now! Please?”

Jane bit her lip. It was bad enough that Ron’s legal work was still taking up all of his time, even though he was no longer a lawyer – at least officially. But to have these people come to the door of their home was too much!

Still, the woman was well-dressed and seemed above the usual riffraff Ron ended up defending these days. “What did you say your name was?”

“Taylor. Jennifer Taylor,” she answered. “My son, Justin Taylor, is in Stanton Correctional. He’s cellmates with a man named Brian Kinney. I really need to talk to your husband about this situation!” 

Jane recoiled. Brian Kinney. That name made her shudder. It somehow always came down to that Brian, Jane thought. The infamous Baby. Baby had made her life a nightmare for 8 years – and now he was back. Obviously making this poor woman’s life a nightmare, too.

“Please come in, Mrs. Taylor.” 

Jane opened the door wide and ushered her inside. Then she went upstairs to tell her husband, Ron, that his old boyfriend’s new boyfriend’s mother was sitting in their living room, desperate to see him. Yes, that should be a good one. Let’s see what the two of them are able to cook up together.

Ron came down the minute he heard Jennifer Taylor’s name. She was lovely. Quite lovely and petite. And blonde. Ron preferred petite blondes – at least when it came to woman. In men, he liked them chestnut-haired. And tall. And lean.

“Mrs. Taylor. Such a pleasure,” Ron said, taking her hand gently. 

Jennifer clung to that hand. Craig had refused to come with her. He had refused even to consider talking to the people from the PLD. Their own lawyer – a good friend of Craig’s from their country club – had done a lousy job of defending their son on that drug charge, but Craig didn’t seem to care. As far as he was concerned, Justin was guilty and should take his punishment like a man.

But Craig had no idea what was really happening to their child in prison. He had no idea about his relationship with this older man. This convicted murderer who her son was living with. And having sex with! Who Justin thought he was in love with!

But Mr. Rosenblum would understand. Debbie Novotny had encouraged her to contact him. Forget the fact that the man had also had a relationship with this same Brian Kinney. Debbie explained that it was just prison sex. A convenience. That Brian had been Mr. Rosenblum’s prison wife. His bitch. But now he was out, back with his true wife, in this lovely home in Squirrel Hill. 

But Jennifer knew that for her son – her beautiful gay son – this Brian Kinney was more than a convenience. Every day that Justin was locked in that cell with Kinney, he was more and more in love with him. Or so he thought. So he wrote to Jennifer! Asking her to buy things for this man. To do things for this man. Talking about the life they would have together when they both got out of the joint! Justin would not see reason about this. No, not at all.

So Jennifer knew that she must take things into her own hands.

“Mr. Rosenblum, I’m here to see what you can do about getting my son, Justin, out of Stanton as soon as possible. I’m afraid for him there. Very afraid!”

Ron sat back on the sofa and regarded her. “Yes, Mrs. Taylor.” Ron leaned forward and put his hand on top of hers, comfortingly. He squeezed it. “Jennifer. Please call me Ron. We’ll be working together, so I’m sure we’ll be good friends. And there’s nothing I want more than to get your son out of that prison as quickly as I can. I plan to make it a top priority.”

“Yes, Ron,” said Jennifer in relief. Finally she had found someone who understood. This dear, kind man! “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

“Yes,” Ron said. “We’ll work together. I’ll begin reviewing his case tomorrow. We’ll get Justin out of there, Jennifer. And then he’ll be safe. Safe in his mother’s loving arms.”

Jennifer began to weep. Ron handed her some tissues from a box on the coffee table.

Yes, the kid will be safe. And out of Stanton. Safely away from Brian. That was the main thing. Brian was getting way too attached to this little punk. Once Justin Taylor was gone, then Brian would need Ron again. Need Ron just like Brian used to need him when they were both inside. Totally. Utterly. Because Baby belonged to him – and always would.

Yes, Ron would begin working on it immediately.

 

*FIN*


End file.
